


never so complete

by magpirate



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Captain America: The First Avenger - Fandom, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Always a girl Steve, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Fluff, Genderbending, Omegaverse, Pre-EVERYTHING, Pre-Serum, captain america rewrite, fem!steve rogers - Freeform, i'm still not very good at pwp but i tried, vague worldbuilding to be figured out more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpirate/pseuds/magpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stella Rogers has never met an alpha she was particularly fond of-- well, except for one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> stella grace rogers standing in for steven grant rogers because that's how my canon went, damnit. pre-everything and super consensual and definitely not very kinky. also on my tumblr [here](http://magpirate.tumblr.com/post/94972573630/never-so-complete).

Stella tastes blood as the jackass hits her a third time, and there is the resounding thud and a ringing in her ears as she hits the concrete hard. He hit her in the jaw, and for a moment she considers letting herself just lie here on the ground. The stone beneath her is damp from a recent rainstorm, and the growl from the man above her (he is not an omega and her mother's voice rings in her ears for a moment, "You're going to get yourself killed, child, or worse!") telling her to stay on the ground or he'll make sure to _show her her place_ makes her instincts shudder. Don't move, she decides as her ears ring and the brick of the stone alleyway swims in circles when she opens her eyes properly.

  
A back alley behind a theater. Not like this wasn't common ground. The theaters, the diners, the streets, she'd picked fights everywhere. It was the alphas, damnit, the betas, the way they looked down their noses at omegas of every stature and size and shape and color and it inflamed her, infuriated her. It wasn't fair. Biology was biology, that's just how it worked. Alphas were better. Alphas were to be obeyed at every order. Alphas got first pick. Omegas got nothing, but if they were lucky, they'd get a nice alpha to take care of everything they wanted.

  
Stella Rogers has never met an alpha she was particularly fond of-- well, except for one.

  
The omega pushes herself up some, reaching for the fallen garbage can lid she'd taken as a protection before. She hears footsteps on wet concrete and for a moment thinks _Has someone else from the theater come to stand up against this asshole with me?_ and she feels a sense of relief and dread in her stomach at the same time at the thought. I can handle his by my own damn self, she thinks, but the voice that demands "Hey, pick on someone your own size!" sends the dread away in seconds, an immediate sense of relief flooding her body.

  
A knock of a fist against a jaw, a sway of a tug of fabric and a kick in the ass later, the bastard alpha she'd been fighting is stumbling his way out of the back alley. Bucky Barnes is careful as he bends over, and she knows his eyes are on her despite the fact those slender fingers reach for the papers that had fallen from her coat in the midst of her beating.

  
"Still trying to get in, huh?" The alpha says as Stella picks herself up, wiping the blood from her jaw and rubbing her eyes for a second. Hot shame flushes through her as she finally looks to him. She'd been at the theater to get the damn thing out of her mind, another failed attempt to get into the army. The year is 1942, as stamped on the enlistment form she'd dutifully filled out, and managed to get all the way up to the approvals right up until she'd seen her page stamped with "Impaired Omega" beneath her proper gender, and she was sent away.

  
Stella Grace Rogers, Impaired Omega. As if she'd never be anything else.

  
Bucky stands before her in what she knows to be his formal uniform, browns and greens, his hair freshly cut short and his hat crooked on top of his head. The scent that hangs in the air around him is dominance, but to her it is warmth and calm, gentle hands and a savior. The shame she felt earlier sits hot in her stomach as she responds, as sharply as she can, "I had him on the ropes."

  
She doesn't want to talk about the failed enlistments. She doesn't want to talk about it to him, her best friend, who got in the second he decided to carry himself, swaggering and all, directly to an enlistment office to sign up. A perfectly healthy alpha. If she wasn't so jealous, she might find time to worry.

  
"Sure you did." He hands her back the enlistment form after scanning it; it's what he's seen so many times. Illnesses after illnesses, disabilities after disabilites. Stella's blue eyes are mildly defiant, and she practically glares at him as she takes the paper back, shoving it in her coat pocket just beside her heart.

  
She knows what he wants to say to her. Stella has heard it time and time again, from her mother and from Bucky's mother, from the neighbors, from the people in the bars. A gentle look, a condescending look, a sneer, none of it mattered. But, again, she doesn't want to talk about it. He'll bring it up soon enough. She won't interrupt when he does.  
"You get your orders?" She says, looking him over for a moment. He wears that uniform well. It's tailored to him, pins and buttons and all that show his rank and his status at a glance. He has the slightest of smiles as he looks at her, but there's something in his eyes that makes her feel like he's hiding something.

  
"The one-oh-seventh," He starts, taking note of Stella's twitch. "Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow."

  
Immediately, she feels her heart sink.

  
"Tomorrow?" Stella looks up to him with a slight look of surprise. She hadn't expected it to be so soon-- Sure, he'd finished basic training, and sure, he'd stopped working his usual jobs just a few days ago, she'd assumed he'd simply been taking a break to recover. It's not like he hadn't done it before, working himself into the ground. He was taking jobs beneath his status as an alpha, beneath his status as an eligible and healthy alpha, and she knew he was doing it so she wouldn't have to work. The uniform tells her the rest of what she needs to know.

  
"Yeah, tomorrow." He says it almost bitterly (or perhaps she'd simply imagined it) as he pulls her a little closer by a suspender hanging slightly off of her shoulder. "It's my last night." He fixes the strap and pulls her too-big jacket (once his, of course) around her tighter, and then puts both his hands on her shoulders. "So, I was thinking..."

  
"A dangerous past time," She remarks, giving him a look and a slightly pink smile. The taste of blood is still thick in her mouth, but it's fading fast an easy to ignore. Bucky grins at her, that same slight smirk that suddenly seems so much cockier now that he's in a perfectly tailored uniform and carrying himself like the alpha he was born as.

  
"Anybody ever tell you you've got quite the mouth, kid? Maybe I shouldn't tell you." He says with that same grin, and Stella rolls her eyes.

  
"Ah, but then you'd be so very disappointed that you went off and spent your last night in Brooklyn for a while off in some bar instead of with me." Stella responds, the same bit of banter that they always fall back into. More serious conversation will come later, when his hours left have become minutes. Bucky takes her hand and pulls her a bit closer to him now, then turns them both around to the entrance of the alleyway and throws his arm across her skinny shoulders.

  
"We are going some place special." He says, casually, and she reaches one hand up to push his hat back onto his head properly. Be dignified, she thinks, you're an alpha, and for a moment she hates herself for the gap inbetween them. She inhales his scent, dominance and presence and such a desirable man, and for that same moment, instinct doesn't feel quite so viciously hateful as she has always thought of it.

  
"Where?" She questions, and Bucky looks down at her with that smirk, that grin, that gleam in his eyes when he's trying to hide his excitement from her. Stella's heart skips a beat, for just a moment.

  
"The future." He answers with a pleased little look, and now the omega can't help but return his smile as she bumps her shoulder against his side.

\------- 

  
Stella Rogers and Bucky Barnes are notorious around Brooklyn, and she knows the looks people give the two of them. He is an eligible alpha, healthy and strong and handsome, and she is an unclaimed omega. Worse than that, she is lower than unclaimed, she is unhealthy and scrawny and has difficulties holding down a job for more than a few weeks because of it. The looks they give her are pity, condescension, jealousy, annoyance. To them, she is a waste of space. To them, Bucky should be spending his time and effort looking after someone who might be able to provide him with a family someday, instead of a stick of an omega who may as well break the second he tries to put a child in her.  
Stella ignores the looks as they walk to the fair. She stopped letting them get to her when Bucky had moved in, but she still notices them. His mother had thought the same thing, after all- Why bother with the unhealthy one when there's plenty of omegas and betas alike throwing themselves at your feet?

  
"So," Stella starts, and Bucky glances down at her immediately with one brow raised. "A science fair?"

  
"Absolutely."

  
She gives a tittering little laugh, and ignores the look of jealousy from another woman that nearly burns her back. He deserves better than you, those eyes say, and she wonders if Bucky notices them, too.

  
"You might have to do a little more explaining." She says, peeking over at the papers in his hand. He's taken a pamphlet from one of the stands as they've strolled about, seeing everything from a supposed regenerating artificial skin spread across a robotic arm (not that it had done much of anything when it was cut but show off some wires and make the presenter pass off some awful excuses) to a man made of rubber. Bucky was directing them to a stage labeled STARK INDUSTRIES off of the map, and when he talks Stella feels herself automatically paying attention to every word.

  
"Howard Stark is having a presentation tonight, and I wanted to see it before I left. I knew you wouldn't come and write it down for me, after all, so I figured I'd have to just drag you along with me." He sounds so excited, and the sun setting above them makes his green eyes seem brighter. Again Stella finds herself breathing deep, just wanting to take every bit of his scent in. Memorize it. It coats her apartment in thick layers, and she leans her head against his shoulder to listen to him speak.

  
"You know Howard Stark, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he continues, and she doesn't mind. She is focusing on him, and ignoring the disgusted looks from those who give so much as a glance towards them. "There's rumors he's planning some big things, Stells, like flying machines that can carry a single person, and flying cars, and I've heard something about some kind of teleportation device, yeah? Something that could carry you from Hawaii to New York in seconds."

  
"Sounds fun." She says, glancing up to his face again. The alpha smiles down at her, his genuine and excited smile, and her heart flutters. It isn't that she doesn't understand these things, it's just that half the time they go right over her head. Bucky has always been interested in gadgetry and science (the man is a goddamn genius compared to her, and she's anything but stupid) and she isn't surprised he chose to spend his last night with her at the science fair. But, still, there's that same worried look behind his eyes. He glances towards the stage for a moment, then back down to her, and Stella realizes his look has changed.

  
"I figured we'd catch the show, then just head home." There's something in his tone that almost makes her want to hesitate and ask if everything's alright. "I wanted to talk to you about a few things."

  
Ah. And there it is.

  
She can guess what sort of things. I'm not going to be here, he'll say, and I want you to be careful. There are still some alphas in Brooklyn, and they're not going to be nice to you if you pick a fight. Same thing her mother always said. Her teachers always said.

  
Stella merely nods. She knows better than to object- and besides, this is Bucky's last night. She'd rather not send him to England after a fight. She loves him too dearly to let him leave with that kind of annoyance on his shoulders, letters sent overseas or not.

 ----------

He puts the key she gave him in the lock, turns it, and the click sounds almost ominous to her ears as he opens the door. She doesn't want to have this conversation. Be careful. Act proper. Keep your head down. Be a good girl. Remember your place as an omega. She nudges the door shut with her foot and has the decency to lock it as Bucky is putting his coat over the arm of the couch. The sun has set a few hours ago, and his green eyes are nearly visible in the dim light flickering through the window from the neighbor's porchlight. He watches her for a long moment, and Stella stares right back, blue eyes meeting his without any ounce of submission. She learned and decided a long time ago that she'd never be respected if she showed any submission; not to Bucky, not to the neighbors, not to the strangers and their dirty looks.

  
"C'mon." He says, passingly, and takes her hand again to lead her to the bedroom. "It's late, and I'd like to be on good terms before we go to bed."

  
Her good mood has soured astoundingly quickly as he's brought this up.

  
Stella follows after him nonetheless, kicking her shoes off and throwing her coat over his as he takes off his hat and runs a hand through his brown hair, messing up the neat combing the barber had given it. The floor creaks as they walk, and the omega plops herself down onto the bed as she looks up at him.

  
They sleep together. They eat together. They live together. An eligible alpha, and an unclaimed omega. She's used to watching him change, but now as he removes his shirt, she can tell he's hesitating. Like her eyes on him make him uncomfortable, uneasy. And suddenly, she's not sure what to think. She expected a lecture. Why is he hesitating?

  
"Stells," He starts, putting his shirt on top of the dresser. "Tonight's my last night." His hand lingers on the uniform shirt, and his fingers curl around the pins on the chest as if he's trying to hold onto something. "And I'm--"

  
"Don't." She says with a grunt of annoyance. Defiance. "You're gonna give me the same crap Mom always did, aren't you? Keep your head down, look the other way, don't speak up. I've heard it over and over, Buck, I'm not interested--"

  
"Stella--"

  
"I know you're leaving, you'll be gone for ages, but I'm not going to need you to protect me! I can handle myself, I can beat anyone up as well as you can, and I'm not about to go and let bastard alphas be rude to omegas who only looked at them--"

  
" _Stella_ \--"

  
"I've heard the same thing before, I get it every time they look at me with you, I shouldn't be acting out of my place, whatever, I don't need you to protect me when you've decided to do everything I wanted to do, pick up a gun and go kill Nazis, see the world, contribute to great sciences! Because you're an alpha, you get what you want, you always do--"

  
"Stella!"

  
He barks her name, and she flinches. She was crossing a line, then, and she knows she was. The hostile look in his eyes makes her think for just a moment that he's going to strike her, and Stella feels herself shrinking beneath his gaze. Dominance. Instinctual dominance, instant submission. Her hands fist in the bedding beneath her bottom, and she watches his hand curl into a fist on the uniform shirt.

  
"Let me talk." He says, and his bare chest heaves with a slow exhale. "Please."

  
He is calming himself the same way she'd riled herself up. Her heart pounds in her chest, and for a moment she feels short of breath. The omega gives the alpha a weak nod, then looks down as Bucky comes closer to her. He sits beside her, but he does not touch her. This has happened before. It's only instinct, she knows. But he's in better control of himself than others have been.

  
"I'm afraid for you." He says, his voice calm and soft, and Stella looks at her hands in her lap as he continues. "I'm not going to be here, and that's the whole problem. My folks won't be looking after you, and I know it. They'll make sure you eat, but that's it. And I can't--"

  
He inhales sharply, then looks at her, and Stella lifts her eyes to meet the green of his. There is nothing but worry in those eyes, worry and fear and something else that she still can't name that's been there since he saved her in the alley that she still doesn't have a name for.

  
"I can't-- Stella, I can't bear the thought that I might come home and find this house empty."

  
For a moment, she feels as if her heart has stopped.

  
Those words carry a lot of weight, and the omega feels herself shifting nearer to the alpha immediately.

  
"That won't happen, Bucky." She tries, but he stops her.

  
"Someone might decide they like you and take you away, or someone might decide to turn you in because you've been lying on your enlistment form, and with how sick you are- How small- Stella, they could hurt you."

  
"They won't hurt me, Buck--" She tries again, and once again, he stops her.

  
"I want to make sure you're alright." He says, and takes one of her hands from her lap. "I've been-- I've been thinking for a while, and I just kept thinking about how I can send you money and make sure you're getting food just by claiming you as my omega on the forms, and how long we've been living together, and..."

  
It doesn't take her long to realize what he's suggesting, and any further objections she had die in her throat. Her blue eyes are wide as she looks at him, and he squeezes her hand.

  
"Stella, I-- I want to make sure you want this. I'm afraid for you and it's a rush, and I know I'm leaving tomorrow morning, but--"

  
She silences him as she shifts forward to position herself on her knees and press a firm kiss to his lips, both hands going to her cheeks. His strong hands go to her hips, and she feels slender fingers digging into the fabric that hides pale and thin skin from his touch. His forehead presses against hers after she breaks the kiss, soft green staring into that defiant blue, and her heart is still racing as she thumbs his cheekbones.

  
"I was wondering when you were going to ask," She says, as casually as she can. "I was afraid I'd have to go asking someone else."

  
He laughs, and suddenly the bitter mood evaporates from the room like mist in sunlight.

  
"You're sure, though?" He says, gently. He knows the process, and though he knows there's a very rare chance she'd really have a child, the idea of putting his knot in her makes him nervous. She's so thin, so brittle, so frail. His hands on her hips hold a little tighter. There is strength in this girl. His girl, he thinks. His.

  
"I'm sure." She responds, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss once again. "Just be gentle."

  
Bucky nods, and his hands move delicately up her sides to push her shirt up. She complies without any problem, tossing it away after unclipping her suspenders. She undoes the buckle on her belt, fidgets with the old leather for a moment, before throwing it away too. The pants she wears are old and too big for her, so they sag around her hips in seconds. Bucky doesn't have to work very hard to slide them down over her bony hips and push the fabric to the end of the bed, but he stops when his fingers meet the white cotton of her panties.

  
"Are you sure?" He questions, once again, drinking in every ounce of her body. He can't count all of her ribs, but when she breathes he follows the motion of her chest, and Stella smiles as she pulls herself up. He is hard in his pants just at the sight of her, a willing omega prepared to bare herself to him. His hesitance is simply because he's hiding instinct instead of pouncing on her and doing what his body wants to.

  
In answer, Stella moves forward some to undo his belt and throw it away with hers, and he moves with her hands as he sits up to wriggle his pants off and to the floor. His underwear follow suit, and Stella's cheeks burn as she looks at him. There is a moment of silence as they merely examine eachother, Bucky's hands thumbing the fabric of her panties as he lays back down and pulls her with him so she sits on his stomach.

  
"I'm sure." She repeats, softly, her mouth feeling dry as she looks at him. It's only fair that she be naked now too, after all of his clothes are gone. The bed creaks as he moves, sliding her panties down over her slender legs and dropping them almost delicately to floor. His hands move back to her hips immediately, one sliding up her side to rest with a thumb just beneath her breast and the other staying firm where it is on her hip.

  
"You can tell me when to stop," He says, "If it hurts, or I go too fast, just-- Tell me, I'll stop." He wants to establish this, and she nods lightly, her face flushed pink. The blush has spread to other places now, down between her small breasts and to her ears. Arousal is hot in the pit of her stomach, and she doesn't fight him as Bucky eases her down some so he can sit up and he would be placed comfortably in her lap.

  
His fingers wander over her body almost experimentally, and she can't bring herself to speak back to him or move her hands away from his shoulders as his fingers slide down very lightly to her groin. She is barely wet, but the second his fingers touch her folds-- an alpha's touch while she breathes in every ounce of his scent-- her arousal increases. He rubs gently, and she feels his hardness pressing against her thigh.

  
"Oh, Stella." He breathes out, his head against her shoulder as he very gently slides a finger into her. "God, Stells. You're tight."

  
Any words she would have to give him are dead in her throat, for she has nothing to say. She simply rocks herself against his hand, willing herself to open more for him, to make it easier. She isn't in heat (hasn't had one for years, since she's been sick) and she almost wishes she were, painful as it is. It would make this go faster, would make the claim quicker, would mean they'd be tied longer. But Stella merely utters something between a whine and a moan as Bucky slides his finger delicately in and out of her, feeling one of his hands place itself on the small of her back to hold her steady.

  
"I won't rush." He says against her throat, kissing the skin there softly, and the omega shivers. Her body seems to loosen bit by bit as he slides another finger into her. Delicately, delicately, gently, gently, as if she is some prized glass bauble, and this is the one time she realizes she doesn't hate being handled that way. Her arousal grows, her sex growing wet and ready, and she knows bit by bit that she's nearly ready to take him.

  
All she can think of now is his knot. She's seen him naked before, but never seen his knot, never asked him about it, never thought of it. Her hands move up to his hair to hold tight to him and she whimpers as he slides a third finger in, stretching her open as carefully as he can. Her body moves back and forth, back and forth, riding his fingers as instinct takes over. Now, it's all she can think of. His knot, spreading her open, tying them together, keeping them that way. Together. Together. God, god, god, she doesn't want him to go.

  
He is hard and hot against her thigh as he finally pulls his fingers out of her, an omega's scent and wetness hanging heavy in the air, and she utters a low moan at the sudden feeling of emptiness. It's clear he doesn't expect a response, and she is compliant as he positions them again, the tip of his cock just pressed against her entrance, his hands moving steady to her hips. Her own wetness is spread across the skin of her bony hip, but she thinks nothing of it.

  
"I've got you, Stells, baby girl, I got you." He says against her throat, moving his hips just barely to rub the slick mess that her groin has become against his cock. "I'll be careful, I promise, I got you." She's amazed he's still coherent enough to speak to her, let alone reassure her, but then, she knows Bucky has experience that she does not.

  
His entrance is gentle, but not without pain. Her fingers dig sharply into his shoulders and the whimper she utters is one of a clear ache, and he grips her tighter. "I know, I know, I got you, you're alright." He breathes the words into her skin with a low moan as he slides into her as deeply as he can, and her body parts to let him in. The omega is accepting, and she eases her hips back against his as best she can to let him know that she's ready for more.

  
He breathes, she breathes, and he closes his eyes and takes in her scent. Stella Rogers has never smelled of any ounce of submission, not even in the rare occasions of her heats. She smells light, earthy, strong. But beneath that all is the sweetness of an omega, and Bucky utters a low moan as he begins to rock his hips into hers.

  
Stella has not loosened her grip as he begins to thrust, still a gentle motion. He is so deathly afraid of hurting her, but she's strong. He knows she is. Instinct says to be rough, to take this omega as his as aggressively as he can, to coat her in his scent and his seed and not stop until she weeps, but he will never allow himself to do that to her. His arms wrap around her tight to pull her against him, and he presses kisses along her throat and her collarbone as he rocks his hips. Slow and careful.

  
Slow and careful.

  
"Bucky-" She moans lowly, and it takes him a second to realize his knot is already swelling. The ball in his cock brushes against her clit with each thrust, and he knows she can feel it more than he does. He knows what to do, and that includes pulling her back to change their positions, to push her legs open a little wider and bury himself as deep into her as he possibly can.

  
"Bucky--!" She gives another little whimper, followed by a sharp moan of her orgasm, and she clenches around him, getting tighter and hotter and he cannot stop himself, he cannot stop himself from caging her smaller form in with his body as he reaches his own height and feels his knot swell within her, stretching her open and tying them together as he comes in her, coating her insides with his spend and making her shudder beneath him.

  
He breathes heavily at the new sensation, the knowledge that they're tied together, and he feels Stella's grip on him loosen. Her own instincts know that this is a claim, despite the fact that she isn't in heat. Her body relaxes, accepting his claim without a fight, and Bucky tilts his head immediately to kiss her deeply, lovingly.

  
"I love you," He whispers, and the soft little laugh he gets in return, the drowsy little noise, is enough.

\------------

  
The morning comes too soon.

  
Bucky dresses in his uniform (crumpled from the night on the floor) and looks to the bed where Stella lies. His omega. His girl. His. This own strange sense of satisfaction has rested in his chest now, as if he has suddenly found himself complete. As if some missing void had been filled. He ties his boots, puts on his hat, then hesitates a moment to touch the ring in his breastpocket. Come home, he tells himself. Remember what's waiting for you.

  
The alpha sits down on the bed for a moment, putting a hand through her blonde hair that seems almost golden in the sunrise. She wakes, but she is drowsy, her body still tired from the previous night's claiming. She couldn't handle as much as he'd wanted to give her, but he didn't dare risk hurting her.

  
"I'm leaving," He says softly, and Stella makes no move to get up.

  
"I know." She answers, blue eyes clear as she looks up to him.

  
"It'll be a while. I'll write to you."

  
"I know."

  
Bucky leans forward, his hand moving to tilt her head just enough so he can kiss her softly before he stands.

  
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back, Stells."

  
She smiles that tired smile and closes her eyes again.

  
"I'll see you soon, Buck."

  
He stands. The floor creaks beneath his weight. He forces himself to turn. Left, right, left, right. The ring is heavy in his breastpocket, but he cannot give it to her. Not yet. He knows he needs to come home from this war. He needs to come home from this war for her. No matter what.

  
The door closes behind him with a soft thud and a heavy creak, and Stella curls her fingers in the fabric of the bed beneath her, her naked body covered with thick layers of blankets. She is sore, bruised where he held too tight, but with a satisfaction in her chest that makes her want to chase after him anyway. She forces herself to stay put, to close her eyes and relax.

  
"To the end of the line," She mumbles, and wraps her arm around a pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, those red-stained lips curl into a smile.  
> "You've done a very good job, soldier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is, in fact, an ongoing series. or, more accurately, a rewrite of the first avenger. this chapter is mostly one of exposition and exploration and a dash of pining, but the next will be much more involved.

The enlistment office smelled awful.

Stella supposed it always had, but now it seemed that scents had changed. Alpha scents that had once been alluring, commanding, tempting, now seemed-- different. Angrier, almost, dangerous. A scent that told her stay away instead of come closer, something that smelled more like rot and bile, and she wondered if they noticed that she was trying (unsuccessfully) very hard to hold her breath any time an alpha came closer to her. It was difficult, as breathing through her mouth simply brought the scent onto her tongue and it stuck there like oil on the back of her throat even while she swallowed.

Bucky had been gone for two weeks now, and Stella was adjusting to what it felt like to be a claimed omega. Scents had changed. People's looks had changed. Something about her had changed, too, and most primarily she knew that the people who had once looked at her and Bucky with jealousy now seemed wary around her. Bucky's scent seemed to hang around her now, she supposed. A mark of claiming that wasn't physical, but one that everyone could notice within seconds. She was an omega, but she had an alpha.

She had an alpha.

That thought still felt strange to her as Stella stared down at the enlistment form, wedged down into a corner after having spoken to no less than two doctors to convince them that she was perfectly healthy and absolutely prepared to give her life in service of the country. I have an alpha, she thought, staring down at the blank line at the form beside family that lists "Status" and "Partner".

Omega, she writes in a readable chickenscratch, still wrapping her mind around Partner. It seems so innocuous, like nothing at all, and among the stench of meat and sweat and rot that seems to hang around the office, she puts her pen back down to paper. Her hands have been shaking awfully recently (nerves?) and it made it difficult to be neat. I have an alpha, she thought again, and she becomes aware that she's smiling at the thought of it. The elation she's felt these past two weeks have been wonderful, as if a sense of freedom had settled on her, a weight lifted off of her shoulders. It was just instinct, she knew, instinct telling her she was where she belonged, in the status she needed to be in to live, and oh, survival had never felt so sweet.

In her neatest handwriting possible, she prints James Buchanan Barnes on the dotted line beside Partner, and then adjusts her grip on the pen. A cursory glance around the mostly empty office tells her she has no need to rush, and so she is careful to print out as few of her illnesses as she can get away with. The doctors will undoubtedly fill in the rest of the paperwork for her.

The sense of freedom that came with being claimed, though, had also left an awful ache in her chest that she knew wasn't just another little pain from her body that wasn't quite sure how to be a real body. Bucky wasn't here. She had an alpha, but he wasn't here. Missing him felt as if someone had cut her in two, intensified simply by the fact that he had put his claim on her. Simply by the fact that she was his. He was hers. A low sigh leaves her lips and she stares at the words James Buchanan Barnes printed out in the neatest handwriting she can manage, and Stella stands from her chair with a clench of her jaw as she finishes the last of the paperwork.

Approaching the desk, she hands it over, standing straight and tall as she answers questions dutifully ("No, sir, my father died before I was born. Mustard gas. My mother died a few years ago, she was a nurse. T.B ward. Hit her hard, couldn't shake it.") with her hands clasped behind her back to stop them from shaking. The officer looks at her with disbelief, this twenty two year old woman who could pass for a damn twelve year old, this omega with an alpha who is still determined to go to war. Maybe he's seen it before, she thinks, maybe he's seen plenty of omegas trying to follow their alphas into a fight.

"It's dangerous out there for an omega." He says, gently. "The war's not kind to people like you, claimed or not, someone might--"

"With all due respect, sir, I'd prefer that you didn't give me any excuses."

Stella gives him something of a glare and she tries her hardest to look respectful. Rumors came from overseas all the time, pretty omegas being snatched up by the enemy to be found months, years later with children and delirious with all manner of problems brought on by a strange alpha. This officer has the audacity to pull that one; perhaps he knows, too, that she's been here before. Plenty of times. That she's sick and weak and wouldn't last a week on the battlefield, and isn't simply trying to do this because her alpha went without her.

"Why do you want this so badly, Miss Rogers? You'd be ineligible on your asthma alone." The officer has not broken eye contact with her. The scent that clouds around him seems to be, to her, cigar smoke and sewage and an acrid stench she doesn't have a name for. "You go out to basic training and you won't last two days, and we've seen your face around other offices before."

The omega twitches. She's getting tired of this. Tired of being sent away. Tired of this. The officer flips through a file in front of her on the desk, pulling out four exams before this one. This is the first one to have James Buchanan Barnes printed on the paper, and maybe some part of her hoped that that would be enough.

"Five tries, Miss Rogers, that's--"

Another voice cuts him off, and Stella is only aware she's clenched her hands into fists when an accented voice interrupts with "Five tries?"

The officer looks up and Stella turns her head to see an older man standing beside the door. He comes nearer without any moment's pause, and Stella finds herself breathing through her nose again as he approaches. The man has round glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and his jaw is slightly unshaven as he leans nearer to her. His scent is not unpleasant, something that smells warm and calm, steady. He is not an alpha, she realizes, but she can't quite pinpoint what it is.

She keeps her nails pressed into her palms as he goes through her paperwork, then looks to her and offers his hand.

"Abraham Erskine, I work for the Strategic Scientific Reserve." He smiles, and Stella is reminded of what people told her grandparents were like. His voice is accented in German, she finds it strange simply because such accents were rare around her. She takes his hand politely and shakes it with a firmness that is almost testing simply because she wants to gauge him as much as he wants to gauge her. He looks to the officer as he releases her hand, and Stella is a bit surprised to not have gotten any sort of reprimand.

"Leave us, sir, I wish to speak to Miss Rogers privately."

The alpha stands slowly, gives a slight nod, and his eyes linger on Stella. Stella stares right back, defiance and anger lingering in her blue gaze. He walks right past her into the next room, and she automatically feels her shoulders sag as Erskine begins to speak again.

"I have known many omegas who wish to follow their alphas into war, but these papers tell me you have not had one for the first four tries." He says, conversationally. "That makes me believe you are not trying to enlist because you want to follow him, but because you want to go to war. Do you want to kill Nazis, Miss Rogers?"

That feels like a strange question to her, and Stella hesitates in looking back to him. This is a test. Of course this is a test. Her hostility seems to fade from her body as she crosses one arm over the other, looking to the scientist with a slight tilt of her head. Something of a sigh crosses her lips and she shakes her head.

"I don't want to kill anyone. I just don't like bullies." She says, and Erskine looks pointedly to where the officer had left the room. It takes her a second to give a slight nod, and another to help her realize that Erskine is waiting for more of an explanation towards her actions. Stella inhales through her nose, exhales slowly through her mouth, then curls her fingers in her too-big shirt and tries not to fidget with her suspenders.

"I kept trying because it's all I wanted to do, sir. There are men out there laying down their lives so I can live here in peace, alpha and omega and beta, and I- I don't feel good, just staying here and doing nothing to contribute. Scrap metal and factory work isn't enough for me, I need to- I need to do more." She tries to keep her tone respectful instead of agitated, but she's rather certain he's noticed. Erskine's hands are clasped in front of his stomach and he leans back against the desk, listening to her patiently.

"I want to fight. I don't feel like I deserve to do anything else when there are people dying." People dying overseas. Family members. Sons. Daughters. Brothers. Sisters. Husbands. Wives. She tries not to think about Bucky, and reminds herself that he's only been gone for two weeks.

Erskine seems to consider this, looking this slender stick of an omega over, before he lifts up the fifth form from the desk and skims it once again.

"There are so many big men fighting this war, maybe what we need now is a little one." He says in passing, then gives a slight nod as he puts the paper down, reaches for a stamp, and looks to her. "I can offer you a chance."

She tries her hardest to smother the grin that begins to spread across her face as she answers him with, "Sir, that's all I need."

"Then congratulations, soldier." He stamps the page and offers it back to her with his signature printed on the bottom and a few words beside it printed in handwriting much neater than hers 'Candidate for Project Rebirth'. "Where is this little omega from, really?"

Stella hesitates a moment, then offers him a light smile as she holds the paper in both hands, trying not to stare at the drying ink. "Brooklyn."

\---------------------

If the enlistment office smelled bad, the camp was worse. Sweat and stink coated the place in layers, from barracks to offices to the well-worn trails. It seemed to permeate everything, and Stella found herself wondering if the stench was covering her omega scent. She knew what omegas smelled like in comparison to alphas and betas; omegas carried a sweetness, a fertile warmth, something that anyone could breathe in for just moments and know the stature of the person they were talking to. Yet, while she panted her way through the trails, trudged her way through the mud, and tried to deal with the ringing in her ears that came with learning how to shoot, not a soul seemed to acknowledge her for an omega.

Of course, they did quite a lot of acknowledging her. Scrawny, fragile little Stella Rogers, she was getting used to going to bed with her head pounding and body covered in bruise after bruise. No broken bones, thank god, but they'd certainly tried.

Stella has been at the camp for upwards of two weeks now, and hadn't gotten a letter from Bucky since she'd left Brooklyn. The paper is well-worn as she unfolds it again, staring down at the wary encouragements and words of affection penned in Bucky's steady hand. It doesn't smell like him, and she hates that, but the words are his. She can hear his voice just fine when she reads them.

The sun shines in through the window while she sits at the table, listening to whistles and orders and the steady sound of marching feet. She'd been brought here and told to wait, sitting in an over-sized uniform that seems to swallow her with her long blonde hair pulled back into a tight braid, and combat boots that were laced as tightly as they could and still seemed to fit too loosely. Part of her was dreading knowing what would walk through that door.

Stella Grace Rogers, Impaired Omega. Suddenly the words burn in her brain while she folds Bucky's letter again and slides it into the pocket beside her heart. She'd been doing her best. She'd learned how to shoot even with her bad eyes and had at least started hitting the target. She'd gotten the flag when not a single other soldier had even considered it. She had managed to get through the entire obstacle course without having to be carried off of it yesterday- Surely that was enough?

And yet she couldn't help but feel a sense of cool anxiety in the pit of her stomach, telling her that they're going to send her home to Brooklyn and she isn't going to see her alpha after all.

The door opens, and Stella looks up. For a second she forgets to breathe in, for standing there in a halo of light is Agent Peggy Carter.

The omega stands to greet her immediately with a nervous chirp of "Ma'am," and a salute, and Peggy steps aside to let Abraham Erskine in. Stella's rigid body doesn't relax, but she lowers her hand. Can they smell her anxiety? Her uncertainty?

Peggy and Erskine are both betas, she knows; Peggy with no mate, and Erskine with one, but she has not bothered to pry. Peggy's scent is stronger, a powerful and thick sweetness that Stella feels drawn to even from across the room. She wants to be nearer to this agent, this soldier, wants to learn who she is. Stella keeps her body very still as they both approach the table.

"You may sit, Soldier." Erskine says with a sense of amusement, and it's only now that she realizes the gentle smile on the old man's face.

"S- Sorry." Stella stammers out, finally pulling her eyes away from Peggy as the other woman sits down at the table beside Erskine and across from Stella. They both look at her as if they're examining her as she sits, and the omega feels an automatic response of trying to make herself shrink. Scrunitinzing eyes make her wary, whether she wants to or not.

"Have I- Have I done something wrong?" Stella forces herself to speak slowly to prevent a stammer. They are her friends, but they're her superiors as well. Respect is necessary, but her instincts tell her she should be trying to cower. Fighting against that urge, the omega makes herself sit taller, straighter, and puts her hands on the table. It's not a challenging posture, but it's certainly not a submissive one.

Both of them seem amused now, but Erskine's smile is wide and genuine.

"No, Miss Rogers, Agent Carter and I have come to give you good news." He says without any sense of hesitation, in a tone that suggests he's trying to put her at ease. Stella merely stares, and Peggy crosses one leg over the other. Erskine continues.

"You've been selected for Project Rebirth, if you would consent to it." He says, and Stella feels a knot forming in her throat.

The colonel had said very little about this project, but Stella knows that she and everyone else who had been in her particular group were candidates. A new breed of supersoldier, he'd said, the first of many. Stella feels her hands curling against splintered wood. Selected, he'd said. You've been chosen. Selected for something important, for the very first time in her life that hadn't simply involved the green eyed lover in her life.

"I've been chosen?" She says, still speaking slowly, but this time it is plain excitement that threatens to force her to stutter. "For- For your supersoldier project, me?"

"Yes," says Peggy Carter, and Stella's blue eyes flicker to her for the first time since they'd sat down. "You would be escorted back to Brooklyn for the procedure in three days time. If all goes well, god willing, it is likely you will be sent to the front soon after."

"This procedure is perfected as much as I could have done, Miss Rogers, and you are my first and only choice." Erskine says, and Stella feels the weight of this settling on her shoulders. Anxiety flees her body to be replaced with something else-- Something like excitement, uneasiness. Eagerness. I've got everything to prove, her body tells her. I can prove it now.

"Yes." Stella answers, without any second of hesitation. She doesn't know the extent of it, and she can tell they don't intend to tell her here. But that doesn't stop her. "Yes, I'll do it." The thought of becoming something great- of shedding off these disabilities that she's only lived with to become that something great, to become a soldier, to be made able to defend and protect and fight just as she's always wanted to do. To be able to do it to the best of her ability no matter what.

To be able to be something great for Bucky, and for the people.

The idea is enticing.

Erskine is smiling as he reaches across the table to take her hand. His hands are rough and gentle and he squeezes her fingers with an almost delicate motion.

"Then congratulations, Stella. I will see you in three days time."

He stands, collects his things, and leaves. His scent lingers, subtle and hanging in the air, and as he leaves Stella finds herself looking back to Peggy. The beta is still examining her, but there is a sense of hopefulness in her eyes that Stella recognizes from when she had been learning to shoot.

"I'll be taking you back to Brooklyn when it's time." Peggy says, and Stella can only nod. "You'll want to make sure your things will be packed- Chances are they'll be taken to your home for a short while until we've determined where to send you next."

Finally, those red-stained lips curl into a smile.

"You've done a very good job, soldier."

The praise makes her feel elated. Stella mumbles an almost embarrassed thank you as Peggy stands, salutes, and leaves behind Erskine, the door swinging shut with a creak and a wooden thud. Stella sits there for a moment longer, then grabs at a piece of paper left behind. A moment of digging helps her find a pencil, and in her shaky hand she scrawls out just a few words.

  
_Bucky,_   
_I'm coming to see you soon._   
_I love you, I miss you._   
_Stella_

  
Her hands are still shaking, be it from her usual problems or the uneasy excitement that is coursing through her body. She folds the paper and from this tiny office that still smells sweet and warm with the scent of Peggy Carter heavy in her nostrils she goes right to the mail office to demand a stamp and an envelope.

The very first.

\------------------------

A month and three days without Bucky, and two weeks and three days since she'd last been in Brooklyn.

The car rumbles along familiar streets towards wherever their destination may be, and Stella finds herself peeking out more than anything, ignoring the alpha scent of the driver and the sweet lingering beta scent of Peggy Carter beside her. Many of the people working security on this trip, she realized, were alphas. The stink of them permeated everywhere these days, that same smell of sweat and rot that she didn't find tasteful at all. Bucky didn't smell like them. Even after a month and three days (and four hours, but who's counting?) without Bucky she could remember the smell of him, the warmth and softness and soothing feeling that came over her when she inhaled in his presence.

"I know this neighborhood." Stella says, suddenly, breaking the silence that had lingered over the cab since they'd left the camp.

"I got beat up in that alley." She points, and then pauses a second.

"And behind that diner."

She looks down to her lap, a bit flustered.

"And... And in that comic shop."

Immediately, the omega is aware of the beta and alpha in the car with her, and she can almost feel herself shrinking against the chair. She's meant to be a supersoldier, the very first, and here she is admitting to her weaknesses in front of those superior to her. The thoughts don't even properly form before she clenches her jaw and shoves them away. Instinct is a damn bitch, making her want to roll over and whimper every time an alpha crosses by, and she's agitated just at the thought.

Instead of a reprimand or sound of disgust, however, Peggy's gentle voice merely questions, "Did you have something against running away?" Stella finds herself considering this for a long moment, before the girl sighs and gives a slow exhale.

"You start running, you never really stop." She looks to Peggy, taking in the red lipstick and brown hair and soft eyes, and breathing slowly to take in every inch of her scent. "They'll chase after you if you run, you know, but if you push back, stand up... They can't keep trying forever."

"I know a little of what that's like." Peggy says, looking forward again. "To have every door shut in your face." Stella finds herself thinking of what she knows of betas. Both capable of mothering and fathering children, an infrequent choice for alphas and rarely compatible with omegas. They function best with both an omega and alpha around, to have their own sort of pack.

Stella frowns just lightly.

"Why did you--" She starts, but the car stops immediately. The omega has to brace herself to keep from falling forward, propping herself up against the seat and peeking out the window. An antique shop looms (rather ominously, she notes) above them, and Stella looks to Peggy with no shortage of uncertainty and immediately switches gears.

"Why are we stopping here?"

Peggy wastes no time in sliding out of the car, looking down to the bewildered omega with her red lips pressed into a thin line.

"Follow me," She says, and Stella does as she's told, sliding out of the car to stand at the beta's side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was overseas with a gun in his hand, a boy who'd once showed off to her by shooting bottles off a brick wall with a slingshot and a few stray pebbles. He had a good eye, she thought, surely he'd be able to bring himself back home. Bucky. She was going to go to him, and help him, help everybody, fight like she always wanted to. The reality of it closes in around her the same time as the machine does, enclosing her in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many of you have asked what stella's going to look like coming out of the machine; hopefully this is a good answer.

The inside of the antique shop had an oppressive heat to it, something that felt quite different from the clear day outside. Stella hung back behind Peggy just slightly as she expected the beta to be leading the way, and the omega felt that it would be quite important to focus her attention on the brown-haired woman in front of her. The lighting was dim, a few old-looking lamps displayed throughout the store just enough to make it possible to see. An old woman stood behind the counter, and she looked up with a pleasant smile as Stella and Peggy entered.

"Wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?" She says airily, and Peggy turns her head to acknowledge the old woman without any hesitation. Stella inhales automatically, trying to determine how she should be acting- but it takes her seconds to realize that the old woman, strangely enough, carries no scent. No scent at all. A question jumps to her lips, but she swallows it immediately. Rude to ask, she thinks, rude to pry.

"Yes," Peggy responds almost passively. "But I always carry an umbrella."

The old woman gives a distant smile, like she's not all there, and Stella feels her stomach twist uncomfortably as Peggy takes her (annoyingly delicately) by the shoulder and leads her into the back room. They stand before a bookcase, and Stella is once again about to ask the other woman just what in the world is really going on here, when the bookcase swings open. The omega feels anxiety bubbling away in her chest as she realizes, finally, what the purpose of the antique shop is- a front to keep the compound beneath it a secret. Stella swallows around a lump in her throat, looks to Peggy, and tries not to shrink beneath the beta's gaze as she once again takes the lead.

Military police lurk about the hallways like ghosts, each one of them making eye contact with the duo of women as they pass, and each one with their hands resting almost idly on their pistols. The omega finds herself avoiding their gaze on instinct, and yet when she breathes in- not a scent reaches her nose. The compound may as well be empty with everything she can find here, and yet as they pass through more and more hallways the only whiff of anything is the beta scent of Peggy Carter.

Stella inhales very slowly, tries to stop her racing heart and shaking hands, keeps her head forward, and walks.

Be brave, she tells herself. Be brave for Bucky, for Erskine, for everything they've put on your shoulders. The omega breathes in and out as slowly as she can, calming her racing heart and keeping herself steady. Anxiety and nervousness and fear burn away in the pit of her stomach and part of her wants to collapse, wants to say they've made a mistake and they should really send her home-- but she's come this far. She's come this far, there's no turning back now. For a moment the girl thinks to look over her shoulder, but she stops herself, clenching her hands into fists and digging her fingers into her palms. Be brave. You can do this.

Peggy is silent the whole way as she leads her to what Stella supposes is the laboratory; there is some sort of platform in the center, surrounded by various consoles that scientists and nurses alike are swarming over, checking things that Stella is almost certain she wouldn't be able to understand even if she tried to learn it. The second they stop moving, Peggy closes her hands around the railing, and Stella watches every single head on the ground below turn to look up at her. The omega forces herself not to shrink away, to stand tall and brave in front of them, and she feels eyes slide off of her and Peggy within seconds to return to the meters. Erskine stands beside the raised platform, and when Stella meets his eyes, he gives her a soft and reassuring smile.

Be brave, she thinks again. For Bucky.

With no scents hanging in the air, Stella finds it easy to pretend. She has no stature to these people's eyes, she realizes as Peggy moves down the stairs. That's why every soul in this compound has had their scents scrubbed clean off of them, and why the old woman had not even a lingering whiff about her. There is no status here, only military rank, and instinct is being covered by pure necessity. So what does it matter to them that she is an omega, chosen for some sort of project that hundreds of others would no doubt be more qualified? The girl tilts her head up, stands taller, and mimics what she remembers Bucky's confident stride to look like. Act like an alpha. Look like one. They'll treat you like one. Won't they?

Erskine greets her at the bottom of the stairs. Peggy lingers for a moment longer, giving Stella a slow and sympathetic look before she turns to head towards the observation booth, and Stella inhales and exhales steadily as she looks up to the old man.

He looks tired and worn, his clothing shabby, but he wears a smile. Stella breathes deep again as she stands closer to him, and on his breath is a familiar scent- the same sort of alcohol her mother saved for special occasions. The smell of it calms her slightly in this place devoid of all manner of odor, and a nervous smile comes to the omega's lips.

"You save me any of that schnapps?" She questions almost passively, still focusing on remembering the way her alpha talked, the way he walked and carried himself. Bolster yourself, she thinks, make yourself look like an alpha and surely they'll treat you like one.

"Not as much as I should have," Erskine admits a bit sheepishly. Stella can't really help but give a little laugh in return, feeling awkward even as she stands with her back straight and her attention solely on the man in front of her.

"Take off your shirt, your tie, and your hat." He directs, then gestures to the machine beside them. Stella lifts her hands to remove the military hat as she's told, handing it off to a nurse (omega? beta? alpha? the lack of scent is unnerving, and it's hard to identify what's what without it) before she adjusts the pale yellow tie around her neck and works to untie it. Dimly, Stella is quite aware of the audience in the observation booth above, though she's certain they're still milling around in conversation as they were when Peggy went to join them. Her cheeks burn as she hands off the tie, and she struggles to make herself stop blushing as she unbuttons her shirt one by one.

It isn't that the half nudity bothers her; no, she's quite aware of the wreck that is her body, but part of her feels as if she simply shouldn't be brazenly displaying her breasts before people who aren't Bucky. As the buttons come looser she feels the garment sag around her shoulders, and she's quite glad for the belt that keeps her too-big pants up, although it shifts as she untucks the shirt. Handing that off to the nurse along with her hat and tie, Stella fidgets with the braid her hair is pulled back into, feeling it tickle between her shoulderblades just above Erskine's hand as he moves to help her into the machine.

The omega breathes deep once again as she sits herself down, then lays against the smooth, cool leather. It is black and seems so much darker against her pale skin, and it takes some adjusting and guidance before her head's in the right place. She lifts her head slightly to take note that it seems to have been constructed for someone much taller than her- Her feet barely hit the middle of it. Again, she feels her heart start to race. Anxiety and excitement both settle in the pit of her stomach to create an agonizingly uncomfortable sensation, something that feels more like a burning in the back of her throat that threatens to make her vomit the meager breakfast she'd forced herself to choke down.

"Comfortable?" Erskine's gentle voice breaks through her anxiety, and Stella's blue eyes flicker up to the old man as the nurse who had taken her clothing moves around them to strap her in securely. No going back now, she thinks, and Stella looks up to the ceiling, inhaling for scents that simply aren't there in what now has mildly become a want for comfort.

"It's a little big." She says, trying to ease her nerves. The scientist gives a little chuckle, places his hand delicately on her bony shoulder, then moves away to take a microphone in the hand of a waiting assistant.

Stella shuts her eyes, and Erskine's voice sounds very far away as he talks over the clinking of vials being loaded bit by bit into the machine's receptacles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is here and now that we take our first step not towards annihilation, but the first step on the path towards peace." She gives a slow inhale as she listens, focusing on his words and trying her very hardest to pull it closer, thinking that perhaps his voice would bring her the comfort she's just about desperate for. Her mind begins to wander away from his words, however, as the needle-coated pads begin to close around her arms and stomach. She keeps her eyes shut and grinds her teeth-- what was he saying? Something important, damnit, why hadn't she listened-- and as her mind creeps it's way elsewhere, she thinks of Bucky.

Bucky. She was doing this for him. She was mimicking him so they'd treat her like an alpha, of course her thoughts would only be on him. She was so very, very afraid for him. The needles dig into her skin and she feels her body tense involuntarily as their payload is released into her blood. The sensation is odd, like ice flowing through her veins to be replaced with a steady heat. Erskine is still talking, but Stella's given up trying to take note of his words.

Bucky. Bucky was overseas with a gun in his hand, a boy who'd once showed off to her by shooting bottles off a brick wall with a slingshot and a few stray pebbles. He had a good eye, she thought, surely he'd be able to bring himself back home. Bucky. She was going to go to him, and help him, help everybody, fight like she always wanted to. The reality of it closes in around her the same time as the machine does, enclosing her in darkness. She dangles there just slightly, held in by the steady straps. Bucky. Bucky was going to see her soon, damnit, she was sure as hell going to make sure she'd get back to her alpha, no matter what.

Anxiety in the back of her throat fades to be replaced with pure determination.

A tapping on the glass above her head breaks her out of her distant reverie, and Erskine's voice calling her name tells her he was expecting something more from her.

"Probably too late to go to the bathroom, huh?" Stella calls through the machine, ignoring the way her heart races and the way the serum seems to be sinking into her body through her veins piece by piece, like chunks of ice blocking up the lanes of her body. Erskine's hand remains on the glass for a moment longer before his muffled voice says something more, and the omega curses inwardly for not listening to what he'd told the observers beforehand.

It's coming though, she knows it is.

Stella breathes deep to steel herself, her hands curling into fists and her body tensing further.

One, she counts.  
Two, she counts.  
Three, she counts.

The sensation hits her like a damn truck, coming all at once. The heated ice that the serum had become in her veins piece by piece seems to grow like it's prepared to burst through her skin. There's the sound of cracking piece by piece and she doesn't have the brainpower to acknowledge what it is now (her bones? or the icy flames coursing through her? the machine?) as the pain intensifies piece by piece, muffled voices outside the machine calling out as the light and heat increases steadily.

Stella bites her tongue to keep from screaming and feels the taste of blood fill her mouth to be replaced seconds later with nothing, nothing at all, as if her body were pulling itself apart and putting itself back together in the same instant. She's aware of nothing but the excruciating pain and there's a full five seconds between when she starts screaming and when she acknowledges that she's already begun to screech her throat raw. There's the banging on the machine and she hears it now, hears those muffled voices mixing into one to yell to shut it down, to stop it--

No, she tries to say, you can't, I need to do this-

I need to do this--

"Don't!" She howls it out, despite the pure agony that encases her body, thinking only of one man, one man so very far away who she loved so desperately and who was so very afraid of coming home to an empty apartment. "No!" A man who she belonged to, heart and soul, a man who was waiting for her, counting on her, who she had promised she would see. She could not, would not, will not give up on that.

"I can do this!" She yells. "I can do this!"

Everything to prove.

The pain intensifies, the icy fire rips apart her body and burns it back together all at once and then it's passing over her like it was never even there. The machine is filled with her own heavy breathing, the sticky feeling of sweat coating her body. The straps have broken, she realizes, and she stands upon the footrests with her arms pressed tight to her body. Her head is swimming, but she hears through the metal now as Erskine calls for Howard Stark himself to open it up. Stella keeps her eyes shut as she feels the machine shift and open with an audible hiss, and cool air floods her body to give her an absolute sense of relief as she struggles to open her eyes. The pain is still fading, and she feels multiple pairs of hands steadying her and helping her out of the leather and metal.

Stella opens her eyes, and her vision swims, though she steadies herself quite quickly with the help of Howard and Erskine, her hands across their shoulders. She stands taller now, she realizes, and she can hear out of that damned left ear that hadn't worked right since she was twelve. As she pants for breath, she tilts her head up and notes that her back doesn't hurt anymore, either, and her hips don't ache as she takes an assisted step forward. She breathes in and now she can catch scents properly, some sort of surpressant that coats everybody and beneath that their hierarchy scent. Peggy's scent is sweeter and more lovely than ever as the woman comes running down the stairs, putting her hands on Stella's stomach for a moment to steady her.

"How- How do you feel?" The red lips form the words almost shakily, and Stella realizes with a heaving breath that Peggy is flushed red in the face, looking somewhere between embarrassed and concerned. There is much celebration going on around her, and Peggy's hands haven't left Stella's heated skin.

"Taller." Stella breathes out, not exactly able to catch her breath just yet. Things seem just slightly overwhelming now- her head is still swimming even as she tries to focus on Peggy. The belt around her waist that had been holding her pants up feels considerably tighter now, though she's eternally glad they've stayed on. "It-It worked." She looks away from Peggy's nervous smile for a second to look at Erskine, whose greying features have become something Stella recognizes as distinct relief.

Someone presses a shirt into her hands and Stella obediently covers her chest, feeling the fabric in a new way. Not uncomfortable, but not quite so-- singular, anymore. There's a loose thread by her hip that she barely acknowledges as she pulls it down over the too tight belt, looking to the nurses and assistants swarming around them. Stella pulls her hair out of the shirt, feeling the braid sink down her back to it's usual place. Colors seem different now, too; sharper. Brighter. Clearer. It amazes her, and she's about to open her mouth to say something else to Erskine before the sound of gunshots rings through the compound and a nurse screams as there's the distinct thud of a body hitting the ground.

Almost all at once, the omega feels all her senses shift into overdrive. She shoves a nurse out of the way rather inconsiderably when she realizes just who has been shot- Abraham Erskine lays on the ground, struggling for breath as Stella manages to get to him and grip onto his shoulders. The beta's trembling hand lifts, taps her twice in the center of the chest, and shock sets in in seconds as the light leaves the man's eyes and he goes utterly limp. The retreating footsteps of Peggy Carter have gone after the shooter- a man Stella had certainly missed beforehand- and the newly created supersoldier jumps into action as quickly as she can.

Her heart pounds in her ears as she blows past military police, running after the sound of machine gun fire from the front of the antique shop. She jumps over the fallen old woman (an omega herself, she can smell it beneath the surpressants now) with something of an apologetic yell, and just about crashes through the front door. Two seconds of observation and she leaps to tackle Peggy to the ground as the yellow taxi goes hurtling by.

"I had him!" She snaps, and Stella can only choke out an apology as she stands up again. Yellow taxi. Star on the side of the door. Only one company had that logo, and that color- she knows what she's looking for. The omega wastes no time to even check if Peggy had picked herself up off the ground.

Stella begins to run, and her longer strides make her a bit startled. Go further, she thinks. Erskine said this was a supersoldier serum, surely you can go faster than that? She's already gone further than she ever could before without losing her breath, and yet the only sweat on her body is still cooling from the machine. Her breathing is perfectly even, and Stella gives an inhale as she weaves through the crowded Brooklyn streets, zeroing in on the yellow taxi as it speeds around a corner with the audible screeching of tires. There's still gunshots ringing in her ears as she forces herself to speed up, going around the corner as quickly as she can--- and sending her careening right into a bridal shop.

She picks herself up from the broken glass, feels shards sink out of her hand for the pain to vanish mere seconds later, and notes that she's going to have to work on turning.

"Sorry!" She yells out to the shoppers, not giving them a second glance as she dives back into traffic and takes a shortcut through an alleyway. Based on the way the shooter is moving, she has to assume he's headed towards the pier-- but he doesn't know these streets the way Stella does. She grew up here in Brooklyn, she knows exactly where she's got to go.

The yellow taxi comes into view again just long enough for Stella to watch it twist and turn and wreck, flipping end over end and rolling with a sickening crunch after it had nearly hit another car. The woman comes careening out of the alleyway after jumping over (over! she'd never even been able to climb one before) a chain link fence, and she heads directly for the wreck in time to see a black haired man crawl out and grab his gun, dash a few feet forward, and move to shoot her.

Stella grabs the fallen car door and shields herself, two bullets shooting right into the star on the car door and embedding themselves there as she throws it aside. She has her mark, now, knows who she's going for. The shooter stomps towards a crowd of cowering people and a woman screams as he takes himself a hostage- a red haired boy who squirms and fights as best he can despite beind dragged away- and Stella ducks behind the brick wall again as two more bullets come at her.

The boy keeps screaming and fighting, and she hears the shooter curse in German. The omega grits her teeth and comes around the alley immediately, just in time to see the shooter press the barrel of the gun to the red haired boy's head.

"No, don't--!" She starts, but she's cut off by the click of an empty gun against the boy's head and then again when pointed at her chest. Again the man curses in angry German, and rather unceremoniously throws the boy out into the pier before dashing off again, the gun tossed aside and forgotten now that it had no bullets. Stella hurries to the edge of the pier to see the boy treadiing water, and relief floods her.

"Go get him!" He yells up at her. "I can swim!"

Stella musters a grin, then turns and dashes off again, her bare feet pounding painlessly against the pavement.

Her blue eyes lock onto movement beneath the water, and she recongizes that quite quickly as her target. A submarine? How in hell would a German spy be able to stash a submarine in a busy Brooklyn pier without anybody noticing? The omega takes a deep breath; she doesn't know how to swim, and this, she supposes, is going to be the better reason to learn. Holding her breath, Stella all but launches herself off the dock and into the cold water, doing everything she can to hurry after the submersible. Her hand closes around firm metal and she pulls herself up to the console, looking through the glass to see the man looking around anxiously for something to attack her with.

Bracing herself, she slams her fist into the glass and feels her hand close around his shirt, and the pod opens seconds later for her to pull him out by the cloth around his neck. Swimming back in the direction she'd come from, it takes a surprising lack of effort to simply throw the German man back up onto the pier, and hoist herself up with him. He makes as if to crawl away, but she gets a firm grip on him again, hearing the crack of a vial against the concrete and barely seeing the blue liquid seeping uselessly into the ground.

"Who the hell are you?!" She snaps as she takes him by the shirtcollar, shaking him somewhat aggressively. Stella watches the man tremble as he looks up at her, clearly in awe that this woman had managed to chase him down all the way into his damn submarine. Clenching her jaw, Stella shakes him again, and the man struggles to speak.

"The- The first of many!" He chokes out, and there's a crunching sound as he breaks one of his teeth. "Cut off one head, two more shall take it's place!" Another crunch, and Stella watches with slight disgust as he begins to foam at the mouth, shaking rather violently as he chokes out, "Hail Hydra!"

The omega releases the dying man with a sense of clear discomfort, stepping back for a second and standing up properly. Police sirens wail in the distance and there's the sound of military police coming near her, but she ignores all of the noise and commotion, finally looking down at herself. This body is strange and new, and she knows that with all that struggle she should surely feel some sort of exhaustion, and yet she feels simply as if she could keep going. Looking down to the corpse, the woman exhales through her nose, and curls her hands into a fist.

\-----------

"You've got enough?" Stella questions a bit distantly as a nurse withdraws a needle from her elbow once again. Twelve vials filled with her red blood sit beside her, and the annoyance is palpable in the omega's tone. Peggy Carter stands nearby, and the beta looks up from her papers when Stella speaks. The nurse says nothing, merely clearing away her equipment and leaving the room. The omega rolls down her sleeve, moving to stand up as Peggy comes closer.

"Whatever chance there is of replicating the serum is in your blood," She says, a bit apologetically. "None of Erskine's data survived, his apartment was burned at the same time you went through the procedure."

Stella gives a sharp inhale.

"I should have done more." She says, shaking her head and looking down at her arms once again.

"If it could work only once, he'd be glad it was you." Peggy says gently, placing her hand on Stella's shoulder. The omega musters a smile for the other woman, but it's forced, and she drops it immediately, shaking her head. The door opens, and it only takes her a second to identify the gait as Colonel Phillips, as well as two strangers who she recognizes simply from the newspapers. Senator Brandt, and his assistant.

"Pack your bags, Agent Carter, the SSR is being retasked." The colonel orders. "We are taking the fight to Hydra's door under orders. You're coming with."

Peggy salutes and gives the colonel her agreement, and Stella moves forward to speak.

"Sir, I'd like--" The colonel cuts her off before she can finish.

"You're being sent to a lab down in New Jersey. We need that serum if we're going to win this war, and you're all we've got."

"But the serum worked!" She protests, a bit more aggressively than she intends. "Can't I--"

"I asked for an army." The colonel says quite sharply. "And all I got was you. You," He says, jabbing a finger at her. "Are not enough." And with that, the man simply turns on his heel. An alpha through and through, Stella notes, and the worst of them. Though, says a little voice in the back of her head, he certainly has too much on his plate too. The omega stands straighter and breathes in, clenching her jaw. Not overseas, not back to Brooklyn, back to Jersey to be poked and prodded at as a lab rat.

Stella watches quite angrily as Peggy and the Colonel leave one behind the other, and she barely realizes the senator's hand on her shoulder. She turns to look, and Brandt looks almost annoyingly smug.

"I've seen the papers. You're all over them," He says, handing a front page to her. MYSTERY WOMAN SAVES CHILD! NAZIS IN NEW YORK! it declares, paired with a photo of her hiding behind that car door. "You don't take a hero, a symbol like that and put it in a lab." Stella feels some sense of elation rising in her chest as she looks to the senator.

"My girl, are you prepared to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?" He says, taking her by the hand as she thoughtlessly closes a fist around the newspaper and feels it crumple in her hands.

"Sir, that's all I want." She says, quite quickly, and Brandt's smug grin merely grows.

"Then congratulations. You just got promoted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she is, in fact, still an omega. and don't worry, bucky's in the next chapter. more to come, hopefully soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't give me orders!" Peggy barks, and Stella braces herself on the plane's doorway.
> 
> "The hell I can't!" She responds, looking to the other woman with what she knows to be is a grin. "I'm a captain!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are with chapter 4, also known as where stuff gets quite fun. i promised bucky, and there is bucky. for questions comments and concerns you may find my tumblr [here](http://magpirate.tumblr.com/) but be warned i am a very cryptic fellow and i enjoy making people suffer my sad headcanon. enjoy, you beloved readers you. <3

"I'm not sure I can do this." Stella breathes out through her teeth as she adjusts her grip on the triangular shield, looking down at herself with no small amount of discomfort. The dress she wears now is ridiculously short, stopping just above her knees. The skirt is patterened in a cheery shade of white and blue and red, and the blue top half of it is cut what she herself would consider a bit scandalous, showing her collarbone and tops of her breasts in a vertical cut. There are no sleeves, but there are long red gloves that cover her skin up to her elbows, and instead of the heels the dancers wear she's been given a proper pair of bright red boots. Stockings cover the rest of her legs, and the mask she's currently adjusting on her face is deeply blue, emblazoned with a white A on the middle and wings that spread over her forehead and point towards her ears.

"There's nothing to it," Brandt's assistant drawls as he helps her with tying up the back of the dress. His alpha scent is ridiculously strong to Stella, and she's been trying not to breathe too deeply, lest the stench get to her. "You get out there, sell a few bonds, bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazis. Bing bang boom." He smacks her on the ass when he's finished, and Stella turns around to shoot him something of a glare, though the rich fabric of the red gloves rubbing against her fingers reminds her that punching him is a bad idea.

The assistant grabs her by the bare shoulders, ignores her still wary protests, and shoves her through the curtain onto the stage.

The omega stumbles just slightly, catching herself as the music begins, and looking down to the cue cards taped to the golden inside of the shield. Captain America indeed, beloved alpha hero, Lady Liberty for the New Age.

What utter nonsense, she thinks.

She composes herself as the other girls sing, feeling quite ridiculous in a dress she'd never otherwise wear, with a mask that hardly seems practical for what might be a military effort, and a shield that fits a little too awkwardly on her arm. The audience looks bemused, almost interested, and she reminds herself that it's her job to get them to empty their wallets for the war effort. This isn't the job she'd imagined herself doing, but... At least it wasn't factory work.

This time, she has to recite the words off of the inside of her shield in a rehearsed tone of voice, bright and cheery and not at all what she's really feeling. Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazis.

\-------

It wasn't that the shows were unbearably unpleasant. With some practice, she started to enjoy them. Started to get used to the merry tune, started to enjoy the attention she got, the excitement from the children yelling their adoration and cheers when she managed to turn right before that dreaded goosestepping Fuhrer came around and send him flat with one well-aimed (and very theatrical) punch. There was something pleasant in it, something that made her heart flutter, and sooner or later she's realizing that the public certainly do have an image of her that she likes the sound of.

Movies and comic books and theaters! City after city after city, and what excited her the most was writing a letter to Bucky afterwards to tell him what the places were like, what Chicago and Spokane and Austin and Indianapolis were like. The letters she wrote to him were fast paced and excited, and her hands no longer shook as she wrote. Her handwriting was no longer chickenscratch, but strong and steady and easily readable while she went on and on about how excited she'd become. His last letter had been rather listless, something telling her that he was glad she had something good to do, and was glad she was keeping herself out of trouble.

He'd stopped writing soon after that last letter, however, and Stella found herself certainly too caught up in the whirlwind of shows and signings and photographs and films and dancing and stages to worry. It had been too long since she'd gotten his letters, but she had to remind herself that she was certainly moving around quite a lot-- No doubt Brandt was picking up her mail, and he'd have a fresh letter as soon as she came back to New York. For now, Stella immersed herself in the new image they'd given her, breathing in and out the freedom that comes with it and feeling purely euphoric.

Captain America, Alpha Hero. No longer just Stella Grace Rogers, Impaired Omega.

Italy is rainy weather. The trip here was what she'd been waiting for, but somehow part of her doesn't feel exactly right stepping through the mud on heeled red shoes instead of combat boots, in a skirt and tights instead of a military uniform. The wooden stage creaks as she shifts her weight on top of it, looking out at the gathered soldiers with some sort of uncertainty. The shield hands on her arm, no longer covered in cue cards and directions. She's been a properly groomed showgirl for a while now, and somehow standing in front of these men makes her realize just how absolutely dumb that is.

"I, ah, I'll need a volunteer--" She starts, and she's already feeling embarrassed.

"I already volunteered!" Someone shouts. "How do you think I got here?"

Thunder rumbles overhead, and Stella looks over her shoulder to where Brandt's assistant and a few of the showgirls huddle nervously. She exhales, turns back to the microphone, makes as if to say something more, when another heckler begins.

"Nice boots, tinkerbell! Pull the skirt up, give us a look..." There's laughter that follows, and Stella shakes her head. Someone throws something, and she's quick enough to knock it out of the way with her shield, anger blooming in the pit of her stomach as she stomps off of the creaky stage to hear the cheery music begin once again and the other showgirls come and occupy the spot she stood in. The soldiers cheer now, for the girls who are perfectly ready to show themselves off.

Stella moves through the back of the tent she and her entourage had been given, taking her heavy coat off of a hook and wrapping herself in it to stop against the cold air. She pulls the red boots off and puts them beside her when she sits down, shame and anger and embarrassment making an uncomfortable storm in her chest as she pulls out her notepad and the dulling pencil. She flips through the pages, gives the train she'd sketched out a while ago a cursory glance and smudges out a bit more of the smoke pouring from it's top before looking to the empty page.

She's putting the finishing touches on the unicycle when a familiar voice and a sweet scent approach her.

"Hello, Stella." Peggy Carter is as beautiful as ever, her hair wet from the rain, her red lips still bright, though her uniform is slightly crumpled. The beta moves to stand close enough to see the omega's little sketchbook, and Stella manages to finally close her mouth and give Peggy a proper greeting.

"I didn't know you were here," She says, a bit awkwardly, and Peggy gives her the meekest smile she's ever seen on this woman.

"Officially, I'm not here at all. I was quite surprised to see you. That was quite the performance." She says, and while she speaks Stella looks down to the dancing monkey in the lovely patterned skirt and pretty gloves.

"Bond sales take a ten percent jump in every city I visit." She mumbles in response, feeling that same hot shame from some long ago turning her face pink and making her chest feel tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Is that Senator Brandt's voice I hear?" Peggy says, and Stella doesn't have to look up to her to know that she's anything but approving. The omega shuts her eyes and sighs, giving a shake of her head and adjusting her grip on the sketchpad before she closes it, putting the pencil and the book in the pocket close to her heart in the heavy coat as she pulls it tighter around her.

"At least I'm doing this. Phillips would've had me in a lab."

"And those are your only options?" The beta's voice sounds almost annoyed, and the omega has to focus to realize the annoyance isn't directed at her. "A lab rat, or a dancing monkey? You were meant for more than this, you know."

Stella opens her eyes, staring at the tent across the way.

"It's funny," She starts. "For the longest time, I just wanted to do what was right. I wanted to come over here, pick up a gun, do some good and help... I finally got everything I wanted," she busies herself with pulling up a sagging stocking as the thunder rumbles and the dirt before them mixes into mud, "and I'm wearing tights."

Peggy says nothing, and for a moment she and Stella merely sit together, watching vehicles drive through the mud. Stella peels the red gloves off and sets them down on the creaky and now very damp wood, adjusting the sleeves on her coat. There's sounds of shouting that takes their attention, and the omega looks up to see a vehicle emblazoned with a red cross stopping at the medical tent, and multiple men jump out to carry others inside through the rain and the mud.

"These men look like they've been through hell." Stella breathes out, once again feeling such hatred for how lovely she's been feeling when these men were suffering. How could she call prancing around in that silly skirt helping, when they were throwing their lives down to be here? How could she call simply selling herself helping, when she was living in the positive lap of luxury while touring and they were lying in the mud for a good night's sleep?"

"These more than most." The beta says softly. Peggy's eyes have not left the tent. "There was a settlement in Austria that we had to move from quite quickly-- Two hundred men went up against the Hydra ambush, less than forty came back. The men in your audience were what's left of the one-oh-seventh."

"The one-oh-seventh?" Stella turns her head quick enough to give herself whiplash, feeling hot shame be replaced by icy fear. She stands up immediately, her feet sinking into the mud. No, no no no no no, this couldn't be--

"What is it?" Peggy questions, but she barely has time to scramble upright and dash after the supersoldier who has gone right towards what she knows to be the Colonel's work tent.

"Sir, I need the casualty list from Austria--" Stella says the second she bursts into the tent, and the Colonel looks up from his paperwork to give her a steady look. Peggy stands a short distance behind the omega, upright and breathing heavily in her effort to keep up with the other woman, though Stella has barely begun to pant.

"Well well well, if it isn't Lady Liberty herself. What's your plan today?" He says, and Stella barely shakes off the mocking. She stands tall, keeps her tone respectful, and does not look away from Phillips' eyes. Perhaps he takes this as a challenge, for the alpha stands as well, crossing one arm over the other as she speaks.

"I need the casualty list from Austria." She repeats.

"You don't get to give me orders, girl." He says almost coldly, and Stella feels her hands clench into fists.

"Please, sir, I just need one name. James Barnes, B-A-R--"

"I can spell." He cuts her off with a grunt and turns his back on her to look through the papers. Anxiety flows through Stella as she watches, inwardly begging to get an answer that he came home, that he was just fine and was in the medical tent, that she'd be able to go and see him in seconds and surprise him with this new visit. Phillips flicks through the papers, and he gives her something of a sigh. His eyes seem to have softened as he looks at her properly.

"I have signed more condolence letters today than I care to count, but the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

Stella feels things move past her in a rush. Does sound familiar. That was enough of a damn answer for her to cling to the hope that he was alive. If he were here he'd have sent for her the second he knew she was here, medical tent or not-- Which meant. Two hundred men, only forty came back. More prisoners than casualties, surely? Maybe? She clings to that hope, feeling a little creature in her chest dig it's claws into the idea that he's still alive. Bucky Barnes cannot be dead, damnit, and she is not going to accept that he is until she sees his body herself.

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue?"

"Yeah, it's called winning the war. Now, according to those posters, don't you have a place to be in the next thirty minutes?" His tone is clearly dismissive as he turns back to his papers, and it's clear that his seconds of pity are over.

"Yes, sir, I do." Stella says coldly, icily, her body feeling stiff as she turns her back on him. She meets Peggy's eyes, curls her toes into the mud, and then turns and dashes out of the tent once again. She doesn't know whether or not the other woman has followed her, but she doesn't care. Her focus now is on her alpha, her boy, her green eyed glory. The omega leaves muddy tracks into the show tent as she sheds the stockings and the gloves and throws away the mask, grabbing the pants that the actor who played Hitler wore to pull them up over the skirt before reaching for a leather jacket that she was sure was Brandt's assisstant's. She pulls it over the upper half of the dress and zippers it quickly, snatching up the helmet of the A dancer simply because it was close enough and stepping into an abandoned pair of combat boots on the doorstep. Obtaining a gun is easy- one of the military police escorts has left their post, and she snatches it up, checks to see if it's loaded, then digs around for a pack of bullets just in case.

Stopping on her way out, she grabs the triangular shield. It has to be good for something, right?

Stella rushes to the unused vehicles, climbs in, and proceeds to dig around for the key. It's only then that she hears Peggy's voice, her breathing heavy and the rain pounding down on both of them like it fully intends to drown them.

"What are you going to do, walk to Austria?" She says, and Stella doesn't even look up.

"If that's what I have to do!"

"You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead."

"I can't accept that, Peggy."

"It's a dangerous place, Stella, and you heard him, he has a plan to win the war--"

"By the time we do, it could be too late!" Stella snaps, and she knows she's caught the beta off guard as Peggy rests her hands on the side of the car. The omega looks up to her without any hesitation, clenching her jaw and adjusting how she sits since she hasn't found the damn key to the car yet. "You said you thought I was meant for more than this. You have to let me go, Peggy."

The beta hesitates, clearly thinking, before she gives a small nod.

"I can do more than that."

\-------

The plane shifts uncomfortably as Stella clings to the side of her seat, watching Peggy across the way with no short amount of unease. The helmet on her head fits a bit awkwardly and the straps hang to the sides of her face, and her leather jacket has been adjusted to cover the dress properly while the skirt had been stuffed into the pants. She fidgets with the belt on her pants to fix it instead of making further eye contact with the beta across the way.

"So, Agent Carter," says Howard Stark from the pilot's seat. "I was thinking, while we wait for Miss Rogers, why not stop off for a late night fondue?"

Peggy catches Stella's confused look and rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly.

"Howard is the best civillian pilot I know, and he's mad enough to brave this airspace. We're lucky to have him." She says a bit airily, clearly trying to make light of the situation. Stella gives a slight nod, glances back to the pilot seat as Peggy begins to dig in the bag she'd brought with her, and then the omega nibbles on her tongue as a few more questions come to her lips.

"So... Do you two, er. Do you two... fondue?" She looks to Peggy a bit awkwardly, and the look that the agent gives her in return is nothing short of annoyed. Peggy forces a small black box into her hands, and Stella clutches it close to her chest for a second, thinking that if this mission weren't so important she'd feel a bit more embarrassed.

"Activate this when you've done what you have to. It'll lead us right to you." She directs, showing Stella the proper way to use it. The omega nods, adjusts her helmet, and then shoves it into a pocket on the pants that fit quite awkwardly just before the sounds of explosions and firing bullets startle all three of them and Howard sends the plane lurching to the side.

Immediately, Stella hurries to the door. She pulls it open with much more surprising ease than Peggy had had in closing it and pulls the parachute onto her back with some difficulty. Peggy has to yell over the wind to be heard.

"You can't jump now, we're taking you all the way in!"

Stella grits her teeth. "As soon as I'm out, turn this plane around and get the hell out of here!" Giving an order. An order to a beta, from an omega. Inwardly, she has to hope that Peggy won't mind this, but this new image of hers is prepared to squash that instinctual thought in seconds.

"You can't give me orders!" Peggy barks, and Stella braces herself on the plane's doorway.

"The hell I can't!" She responds, looking to the other woman with what she knows to be is a grin. "I'm a captain!"

And then, before Peggy can answer, Stella throws herself from the plane, feeling the wind whistle past her before she pulls the parachute and braces herself for the heavy landing in the forested ground.

\-------

Stella abandons the parachute not long after she hits the ground, hearing the anti-aircraft artillery shoot at what she knows to be a retreating plane, thinking nothing of the hard-to-see jumper. She knows immediately what direction she's meant to go-- after all, she'd seen it on the Colonel's map-- and inwardly she once again thanks Erskine for the enhancements he's given to her. Adjusting her grip on the triangular shield, she looks down at the object for a second before giving a soft huff and moving in order to put it on her back. It's a mostly useless object, but it's a heavy sheet of metal that hardly anybody else could lift, so it had to have some kind of use, if only for a bit of protection.

Finding the road is difficult, but all she's got on the mind right now is Bucky. The thought that he could be a hostage to anybody is difficult, but after that man on the pier... She knows next to nothing about Hydra, she reminds herself. Chances are Bucky's just fine, being kept as a hostage because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that little voice in the back of her mind tells her that something worse is happening, that he's being tortured, hurt, killed, worse.

He's an alpha, she reminds herself, they'll treat him with respect. They have to. Right?

Upon finding the road, Stella pushes herself up against a tree. She can hear the rumbling of vehicles a distance away (a mile? two miles, more likely) and she knows that they're likely her best shot; after all, the only thing down this road is the Hydra factory, and getting a bit of transportation will certainly be some help. She counts the seconds until the vehicles appear, and when they do, she pulls herself up with ease into the final car that passes.

Three men in masks look up, and Stella clears her throat as she looks over her shoulder to them. She can't see their faces, but she has to imagine this isn't exactly what they were expecting to happen in this ride.

"Fellas," She says, casually, as conversationally as she would if she were sitting in a restaurant back home. The men dive for her, and in what she estimates to be just a few seconds, she's thrown all three of them out of the back of the caravan to be left in the dirt of the unpaved road. Pulling the shield off of her back again, Stella braces herself against the vehicle as it turns, hearing German voices yell directions as they come nearer to the factory.

The gravity of what she's doing has settled on her shoulders by now, but she's certainly come too far to turn back. Bucky needs her, the other men who are imprisoned need help, and she's not going to deny them that when she knows she's capable. Stella holds onto the triangular shield, breathing slowly to prepare herself. There's going to be fighting, but she is only one woman. If she takes this carefully, maybe she'll be able to sneak in and get right back out-- with two hundred men? Alright, so maybe sneaking in would be easier, but at least here if anyone came for her she could shoot them. One hand rests on the gun at her hip, and she hesitates for just a moment.

The vehicle comes to a stop, and Stella feels herself lurching to the side before she can prepare herself. Inching closer to the flaps, she peeks over the shield enough to see a man in the same mask as the three she'd thrown out earlier coming to check the back of the one she's in. Bracing herself once again, the omega waits until he's come close enough, before whacking him hard in the face with her shield. There's an audible thud as he collapses, and Stella peers out, looks left, looks right, then slides out of the car and rushes into the shadows as quick as she can to prevent being seen. She's got no idea what she's looking for, but here she is on the inside-- and that's good enough.

In front of her is the largest building, lights filtering through grimy windows, and as she presses herself against what she guesses is a barrack, she immediately knows that's where she's got to go. A building like that is undoubtedly going to have the biggest amount of supplies and other things, and nothing else around here looks like it could comfortably hold two hundred people. Looking around once more, Stella turns and dashes for the biggest building, the shield on her back once again.

She climbs in through one of the lower windows to be met with what looks like a hangar after passing through a few hallways (and knocking out a few more masked men-- do they simply not want anyone to know eachother?) and doors, and the omega is hit with a myriad of smells; alpha, omega, beta. Heavy scents of sweat and fear hang around the floor, shouts in German ring through the air, and what she looks at now look like missles. Gulping, she again checks her surroundings. Where she is now is mostly empty, and she can see someone walking away from a table filled with what looks to be bullet casings.

Creeping closer as quietly as she can, Stella examines the case, noting the little blue light emnating from the top of one. Hesitating, she snatches one up, then stuffs it in a pocket and heads in the opposite direction of where one of the guards had been leaving from.

A bit more traveling and sneaking and knocking later she finds herself on the top floor of what appears to be a collection of prison cells, stepping over grates which, when she looks beneath, house many men and women illuminated by weak light filtering in through barred windows. The omega breathes in, almost overwhelmed with the amount of scents that reach her. Fear and anxiety coats the place in heavy layers, and the collection of hierarchy scents collect and group together to create something that seems absolutely repulsive. Stella slides closer to a wall, focusing on the mutterings from the men below and the sound of footsteps pacing in her direction.

Swallowing thickly, Stella watches the guard approach for a few seconds later, and as he passes over a grate she throws herself from the shadows to strike him hard and send him sprawling over top of the very grate he'd just walked over. She peeks over the edge a bit warily to see a collection of men standing up, and one in a bowler hat looks at her in pure shock, before saying with audible confusion, "Who the hell are you?"

Stella pushes the Hydra guard away for a second, digging the key out of his pockets before she looks down.

"I'm, ah- I'm Captain America." She answers, giving a sheepish grin.

It takes her a few moments longer to find the way down and start unlocking cage after cage, and it becomes apparent that Hydra had been taking quite a few prisoners. All of them are men, and after a bit of examining on Stella's part she can figure out that most of them are alphas. Strong and capable looking men, certainly, and not all of them are Americans. She comes to the cage that the man in the bowler hat had been in and unlocks it quickly, helping up a dark-skinned man before stepping out of the circular cage and speaking once again to the same man she'd conversed with.

"Are there any others?" She questions, anxiously. She can't find her alpha's scent in this mess, and it's making her so terribly afraid. If he'd been killed in the ambush-- if he'd simply been left in the dirt-- they'd have given her a body and some dog tags, wouldn't they?

"There's an isolation ward, but nobody's ever come back from it." Someone else chirps up, and the man in the bowler hat points for a second. Up some stairs and around a few corners, says someone else, and they all speak of it as if they were afraid. Dread and hope mix oddly in Stella's chest, and she nods.

"Find anything you can and get out of here. You'll want to go northeast-- there's a clearing there. I'm going to find anyone else I can and I'll meet you there. You might wanna try grabbing some weapons, but be careful, the perimeter is heavily guarded." She turns immediately and starts to walk quickly in the direction she'd been pointed in.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Someone calls after her, and Stella stops long enough to call back, "Yeah! I've punched out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times!"

\--------

The place she finds is devoid of all scent, same as the place she'd been turned into this supersoldier. Or at least, someone had tried to get rid of it; the same scents of fear and despair coat this place thickly, but hierarchy scents are smothered by some manner of supressant. That makes her uneasy, and the rumors she heard of omegas taken by the enemy resurface. Stella breathes in slowly and puts her shield on her back, taking hold of the gun at her hip.

At the edge of the hallway, she sees a portly looking man come bursting out of one of the closed doors, look at her in shock, and then turn and run, papers flying from his collection as he fixes his hat and hurries. She furrows her brows, makes to follow him-- but then a voice stops her, a voice and a smothered scent from the room the man had hurried away from.

"32257038... Barnes... Sergeant."

Stella feels a lump form in her throat as she pushes the door open, looking around quickly to see a figure slumped in a small cylindrical cage, his head lolling against the bars, eyes half closed, cheek smudged with rust from the old metal and his hands twitching. His mouth moves but half the time no words come out, and she the shock she feels as she comes nearer makes her heart race.

"Sergeant.... 32257038. Barnes..."

"Bucky?"

"Who's that?"

The figure in the cage looks up, and his cheeks are spattered with scruff, his hair disheveled, and his green eyes dull and pained, but Stella would know that face anywhere. She hurries to the cage, strikes the lock hard with her fist, and watches it crumble as she pulls it open.

"Is that....?" Bucky starts, clearly confused, and the metal creaks as Stella pulls the cage open. She kneels for a second, reaches for him, and then does her best to pull him up onto his own two feet.

"Bucky, it's me, it's Stella." She says, as firmly as she can, and his unfocused green eyes finally manage to meet her own blue, and it's as if a light has come on in his face. His own hands reach up to grab onto the leather of her jacket and she supports his weight as he tries to move closer to her, helping him away from the rusted old cage and wiping the residue from his cheeks.

"Stella... Stells." He seems a bit more sure of himself now, though when he finally looks at her properly a look of shock comes over his face, as if he's only just realized that he doesn't exactly have to look down, and that this is not simply his imagination.

"I thought you were dead!" She squeaks out, pulling him close without a second thought and hugging him tight. His unsteady arms wrap around her in response automatically, his nose pressing into her hair for a second as they breathe in unison, each clinging onto the scent that brings them so much more comfort than any other possibly could.

"I- I thought you were smaller." He says, lamely, and Stella just shakes her head, making to say something else before an explosion shakes the ground beneath them and sends them both lurching sideways. She has to catch him to keep him from falling again, and she pulls his arm over her shoulders quickly.

"We've gotta get outta here Buck, and fast." She says, hurrying him along as best she can. He clings onto the front of her jacket with one hand, his other draped across her shoulders, and one of her hands is around his waist to keep him upright. Bucky is dragging his feet, and Stella tries not to focus on that. He's alive, he's alive, he's not dead, she hasn't lost him. Relief has to wait, however, as another explosion follows. They're blowing up the base, she realizes, and she doesn't give the lab a second look.

"What- What happened to you?" He breathes out, his throat sounding hoarse.

"I joined the army," She answers, adjusting her grip on him and the shield on her back to give him a little bit more room.

"Did it hurt?" He sounds quite worried now, and Stella keeps her eyes forward as she answers with, "A little."

"Is it permament?" His grip on her tightens, and she has to wonder if there's more to that little collection of words than she knows. She looks to him for a second, then back forward. "So far." She responds.

Behind them, in the trembling lab, a paper falls to the ground. The paper is one of many, one simply left behind by the hurriedly retreating scientist that Stella and Bucky would give no thought. It lands in the strip of light coming in through one of the barred windows, and at the very top of the paper reads the heavily penned sentence "Winter-Soldat-Kandidat gefunden. Projekt fortgesetzt werden."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Go on, get out of here!" Her heart races. He's got a clear shot to the exit from here, just down the stairs nearby and directly down the hall into the free air, out of the exploding building. She'll find another way across- or find a way to survive the explosion, find a place to huddle until they were finished-- but Bucky's voice breaks through her planning with one sharp howl.
> 
> "No, not without you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the wait!! updates are going to stay somewhat irregular until it's finished, unfortunately, as i'm having some computer issues and i'm having a hard time finding all the time to write. much more bucky in this one, and a bit of smut. enjoy!! <3

The ground shakes beneath them as they move, Stella holding Bucky upright to the best of her ability and Bucky clinging tightly onto the leather jacket he wears with the clear appearance that he could collapse at any moment. She keeps him steady with one of his arms thrown over her shoulder, and her eyes don't leave him as they hurry forward in the dark corridor, away from the rusty cages and fallen papers. Bucky glances back multiple times, makes as if to say something a few times, then simply looks up to Stella with an expression so pathetic she feels her heart twist.

This isn't something she's ever seen him look like. When he finally manages to let go of her, she can see it in the way he holds himself up, slightly hunched over with one hand pressed against his side, stumbling even as he keeps up with her, and making an obvious effort to hide whatever pain he might be in. Stella has never seen him look so beaten, so worn and tired, and the omega feels icy fear flood her chest at the thought of it. If her alpha is weak, how could she ever manage to be strong?

The lurching of the ground has stopped feeling so heavy, instead being the low rumble in the distance that lets them know the explosions are still coming.

"C'mon--" Stella grabs Bucky by the arm, and he gives her no protest as she pulls him down a side hallway, onto a walkway. The quickest way out is this way, up a bit, and then--

The grates beneath their feet feel hot, and Stella looks down to see the construction that she'd seen previously vanishing in a haze of smoke and flame. She gives a sharp inhale and looks to Bucky, who has stepped as far away from the rails of the walkway as possible. The little cartridge she'd stolen feels heavy in her pocket now, and she thinks to herself that it's a damn good thing she picked it up. Her heart pounds in her ears, blood racing through her veins as she thinks as quickly as she can, looking left to see stairs down in the direction of the earlier explosions that go up in the direction she needs. Up a bit, then across, then down again and out.

"This way!" She calls, and Bucky finally steps forward again as she passes him, giving an anxious look downwards as smoke lazily oozes it's way up towards them. They come to the stairs and Bucky shoves her forward somewhat unceremoniously, telling her in a loud voice, "Go on, you first."

The omega doesn't give it a second thought, grabbing onto the rails of the stairs and looking back over her shoulder at her alpha for a moment, and the expression on his face is something that tries to be reassuring despite the firelight that frames him like a halo. Stella breaks eye contact with him with some difficult, all her relief from finding him having run out of her through her fingertips the second she touched the heating metal. She takes the steps four at a time, pulling her body forward without a second thought, and she hears Bucky's heavy footfalls on the metal as he keeps up with her.

When they reach the top, Stella looks across the walkway to see the rotund man from before, and a taller and thinner man dressed in black leather. The shield feels heavy on her back as if to tell her to lift it, and the omega wastes no time in pulling it off and setting it on her arm. Bucky slumps against the railing as Stella's pace slows, wrapping his arms around the metal to keep himself up, as he seems to have decided that this particular walkway is sturdy enough for now to hold his weight.

The taller man turns to look at them, his face pale and waxy, his eyes sunken, and his smile is already grotesque.

"Captain America!" He says, in an accent that is distinctly and heavily German. The smaller man cowers behind him, near the door of what Stella realizes to be an elevator. "I am a great fan of your films!" His sarcasm is palpable, and the woman makes a face as she steps forward to meet him on the walkway in a gesture that is protective to the stumbling alpha behind her.

"So this is Doctor Erskine's second attempt," the German says with amusement, meeting Stella halfway. "An omega dressed as an alpha, what a pathetic little waste. Though, fitting, for such a pathetic little man."

She feels her fist clench, opens her mouth to respond, then decides otherwise. Her fist collides with his face with a resounding crack that is echoed even through the rumbles of the destruction below, and the german man stumbles back, lifting his hand to his cheek. His face seems crooked now, showing a bit of red ringing his eye. A red that's too deep a color, too wrong, not blood or skin or anything at all.

"Did he tell you you were his only success?" He hisses, and he lashes out immediately. Stella is smart enough to lift her shield quickly, and is shocked to see the dent his fist leaves in the thick sheet of metal that nobody but her could really lift easily. The omega steps back, and the man gives her a smirk as she gulps down air, looking at him somewhat nervously but with a sense of hostility etched in the very way she stands.

Before she can lash out again, however, she feels the walkway shift between them, and the two Germans are left on the side with the elevator. Stella steps back again to Bucky's side, sharing an uneasy look with him for a moment before again looking for an alternative way out. They don't have long, damnit--

"I was the first!" says the taller man, and Stella's attention is drawn to him. His waxy face looks crooked now, one eye drooped too low, and she watches as he lifts his hand to outright dig his fingers into the flesh of his jaw, and pull. Disgust replaces nervousness as he _pulls_ his face off bit by bit, a sickening squelching noise following as it is ripped off altogether to reveal the face of a skeleton, dyed red and burned and horrible. "You are too afraid, Captain, to admit that we have left humanity behind!"

Behind her, Bucky gives a weak mumble of "You don't have one of those, do you?"

Stella doesn't respond, glancing down as the mask is swallowed by the flames, and the Red Skull turns his back on them. He and the round scientist approach the elevator and he looks to her again, the omega and the alpha stranded on the far side, before giving a sneer that twists his grotesque features into something frightening and says, "Unlike you, I embrace it proudly!"

The omega in question stares him down, doesn't break eye contact for a moment, and snaps out, "Then how come you're running?"

No response comes from the Red Skull but someting of a growl, and he and the scientist retreat to the elevator. The door closes and another explosion rings through the factory, this one right beneath their feet. Bucky grabs onto the back of Stella's jacket and pulls her heavily away from the edge as she lurches forward, and she reaches one hand out to hold on tightly to his shoulder. Blue eyes meet green, and she shudders at the sickening thought that followed. She'd heard rumors of the head of Hydra after time in the camp, certainly, but nothing like that...

"There's gotta be another way outta here." She says quickly, tightening her grip on Bucky and searching for an alternative. "Another walkway, somethin'..." She replaces her shield on her back, knowing she can't carry it properly now as she speaks. The dent digs into the jacket near her shoulderblade, and she does her best to ignore it, her attention turning back to Bucky. He gives a weak nod, then joins her, and points. Amidst the smoke and crumbling steel there's a beam that crosses the gorge, something thin and long but it's their only visible option.

"C'mon, Stells, we gotta move." Bucky grunts, and she knows he's trying to take charge again, if only to prove he can. Stella nods without complaint, takes his hand, then directs him up towards the walkway. It doesn't take them long to make it, the omega holding her alpha up by his middle.

"You first," She says, swallowing thickly. This is the only option, and it's already starting to seem like the very worst one. He grips tightly onto her for a moment longer before climbing warily over the railing, his body slightly hunched over and arms held enough to help him get his balance. He is halfway over the fire and smoke when another explosion follows, and the beam groans and creaks beneath his boots. Stella holds her breath as she watches, watches the beam slide downwards slowly, watches him jump the last few feet and make it with his stomach slamming into the rails. Bucky scrambles over the edge and turns around to look at her, his hands closing around the topmost rail.

"There's gotta be a rope or something!" He yells back at her. A gap seperates them now, smoke and fire making it's way through the air towards them, the building collapsing around them with thuds and crashes and groans.

Stella shakes her head quickly, waving her hand back at him.

"Go on, get out of here!" Her heart races. He's got a clear shot to the exit from here, just down the stairs nearby and directly down the hall into the free air, out of the exploding building. She'll find another way across- or find a way to survive the explosion, find a place to huddle until they were finished-- but Bucky's voice breaks through her planning with one sharp howl.

"No, not without you!"

The omega freezes up for a second, looks at the gorge, looks towards the alpha on the other side of it, then inhales sharply and looks down to the rails in front of her. Closing her fists around the heated metal, she breaks it in two, pushing it out of the way as best she can. Bucky watches her, his knuckles white and his hair disheveled with soot, and Stella meets his eyes as she steps back slowly. She's got one shot, she tells herself. One shot, and she damn well better make it.

Two steps of a run, and a jump.

The open air whistles past her ears and the explosion blooming beneath them tickles her back with flame and ashes. Time seems to stop as she feels she hangs in the air, dreading the fall and the land all at once but knowing that she's got no chance to stop it now.

He catches her, his arms closing around her middle as they meet, falling heavily down onto the metal with a sickening thud, and Stella rolls off of him quickly. Bucky looks up at her in shock, his dogtags hanging around his neck and onto the metal grate, but she only gives him a grin, standing up quickly and grabbing his hands to tug him up harder than she meant to.

"Come on, come on, we gotta get moving."

She drags him out of the building just in time, one final resounding boom swallowing the factory in a cloud of dust and smoke and flickering flames.

\--------

The sun rises a little too early this morning in the forest. The smoldering remains of the Hydra factory are gone, and Stella is fidgeting with the device Peggy had given her. It would work just fine, she's sure, if it hadn't been shot-- but then, it did protect the tiny cartridge with the little blue light well enough during the fights. Bucky sits across from her, exhausted and distant. His eyes haven't left her this entire time, staring at her in a way that makes her think he expects her to change into something else right in front of his eyes.

"We should make it back to the camp today." Stella says without looking up. Bucky gives a little nod in response. She'd been filling him in with what had happened since he'd left as best she can, trying not to acknowledge the fact that he wasn't eager to speak about what happened with him.

"Probably a good thing Peggy and Howard couldn't bring the plane around, what with the two hundred we've got with us." The omega gives a tiny laugh. "Don't think we'd fit in one trip." Planes have rumbled over head multiple times, but whether or not they've seen the group, Stella doesn't know. She pockets the little black box and stands up, offering her hand to Bucky. The alpha stares at it for a long moment, then takes her hand and stands with her.

"Better get moving." She says, gently. "We want to make it before sundown, don't we?"

Bucky says nothing, but squeezes her hand.

It takes them nearly the full day to get back to the camp. Four days worth of travelling night and day, rolling along with a few stolen tanks and holding on to confiscated guns. Bucky himself holds a heavy rifle in his hands, a strap attached to it slung over his shoulders. He and Stella walk side by side, him matching her stride without any issue- or perhaps it's her, once again mimicking his behavior to display herself as the alpha she's been built up to be. All the men in camp seemed to think she was one; they treated her differently, with respect and admiration, every single one of them. They seemed to look to her more as a packleader than a Captain, and that seemed odd to her. New and strange, but perhaps not unwelcome.

They pass into the army camp to be met with much shock, soldiers and Colonel Phillips gathered a bit past the entrance. Many of the soldiers that had followed Stella go quickly to their friends, and the Captain gives the Colonel a steady salute. Bucky stands a small distance behind her, both hands on his gun.

"Some of these men need medical attention." She says, meeting the older alpha's eyes without any hesitation. A look at an equal, rank aside. Not challenging, this time. She does her best to be respectful. "I'd like to submit myself for disciplinary action."

The Colonel pauses, looking amonst the men with a steady gaze, before his yellowing eyes rest on Stella's face and he shakes his head.

"That won't be necessary."

The omega smiles slowly, and behind her, Bucky's voice rings out for the first time today.

"Hey!" He barks, and the group around them turns to look at him. "Let's hear it for Captain America!"

Stella turns to look at her alpha in some mix of surprise, and he raises his brows and gives him quite the lopsided grin, his eyes full of admiration and amusement, and the omega feels something warm welling up in her chest as the surrounding soldiers begin to cheer, clapping their hands on her shoulders and back. She turns once, and meets the eyes of Peggy Carter. Peggy's red lips curl into a smile, and Stella smiles back, feeling her cheeks flush pink as the same sweet scent from the beta wafts past her nose.

Behind her, Bucky stares between the two of them, a dark look crossing his grizzled features.

\------

Getting to London was a relief. It wasn't exactly a vacation; no, Stella had gotten a right proper promotion into being a real Captain for rescuing the men despite the fact she'd done it without permission or with any particular help. She and Bucky were given a small apartment in the barracks to themselves. It was threadbare and tiny, held two beds, a desk with a lamp on top of it, and one bathroom, but it was sufficient. They weren't supposed to be staying here for long. Bucky had a ticket home as soon as he was ready to, and Stella had volunteered to continue against Hydra after handing off the information she'd seen on a map in the factory. She wanted to put together a team of her own, and she had a few ideas of just who she wanted on it in particular.

But now, in this threadbare room, all her attention is on her alpha.

They lay together in the bed furthest from the door, her face buried in his neck and his chin resting on top of his head. They breathe deeply in unison, their scents mixing steadily as he again covers her with himself. One calloused hand rests on the skin of her hip as he'd pushed her uniform shirt up. He wears civilian clothes for now, while she is dressed in a formal uniform, the pencil skirt and stockings still on her legs, though the tie had been abandoned and the shirt untucked from her belt, which also now lay on the floor.

They have been together in silence for a long time, one of her hands holding tightly onto her alpha's while he draws circles on her hipbone with his thumb.

"You don't smell different." He says, finally, breaking the silence as he adjusts to push his nose into her blonde hair, pulled back into a braid down her neck. "You smell just as sweet, Stells." A little laugh leaves him, and Stella grins against his throat, kissing the skin there as best she can.

"You do." She says, casually, the hand not still holding his going to his stomach. "I can smell you clearer now. Reminds me of the pies my mother used to bake and set out on the window, and you and I would dare eachoher to go and take it when she wasn't looking. And that time at the park when you picked a bunch of flowers for me but got stung by a bee, and your mama worried so much but the flowers were my very favorite and I held onto them 'til they just about turned to dust."

"Let's not talk about our mothers now, yeah?" He says with another little laugh, and Stella looks up to his face.

He'd shaved messily, scruff still decorating his jaw, though not nearly as bad as it had been when she'd pulled him out of the cage. His green eyes are brighter, all here properly, and his attention is solely on her as he moves them over carefully. Stella lifts her hands up to run through his combed hair and make it messy again as he sits on her hips. He does it testingly, as if still afraid he'll break her, but he's met by a firm softness that feels so much steadier than he's ever known his Stella to be.

She lays back again when he sits on her hips, feeling his hands pushing up her shirt. The omega obliges in pulling it off as he directs her, doing him the favor of unclasping and throwing away her bra so he doesn't have to worry about it. Stella lays beneath him in her skirt and stockings, her hair still braided neatly, and her hands resting on her stomach. Bucky looks at her the way a man in the desert looks at water, and he bends over to kiss her between the breasts. His scruff leaves little red marks on her chest, and she gives a tiny laugh as his hands move to her sides and he kisses up her neck.

"You feel softer." He says against her ear, and Stella laces her fingers together at the back of his neck. "And stronger."

She doesn't reply, turning her head to kiss him properly. Their lips meet steadily, the omega's strength matching her alpha's, and one hand moves down the length of his spine as his hands ghost over her sides to the pencil skirt. Bucky hooks his thumbs in the fabric and pull it down, leaving the stockings she'd worn beneath it as he slides it down over her long legs and tosses it away to join her shirt and belt and tie on the wooden floor. The morning is young, and the curtains are shut tight.

"You're still beautiful." He whispers. He doesn't have to speak loudly anymore, and his skillful fingers slide over the skin of her stomach and hips. Stella sucks her stomach in and feels her cheeks flush deeply red, the blush spreading down between her breasts and to her ears. The grin he gives her is a pleased one and he places a kiss on her nose.

He is still fully dressed, and she is very nearly naked, and yet it's not much of a bother to either of them.

Bucky lowers herself over top of her now, laying his body on top of hers to lay chest to chest, kissing her lovingly and deeply. This is the first proper reunion they've had since they'd gotten here, their first proper time together since his rescue, and they're glad to finally savor the time alone. His hands move steadily downwards to find her panties, pushing the white cotton down and off with a bit of a difficult gesture before they too end up on the ground. He sits up then and has the decency to at the very least remove his pants and underwear, though his shirt remains on, as do the stockings on her legs.

"I love you." He says, aloud. Blue eyes take him in as he edges himself inbetween her legs, and Stella gives a breathy little laugh.

"I love you, too." She responds, watching him as he sucks two of his fingers and lowers them to find the delicate entrance between her legs. Rough skin brushes against the smooth pink and her blush grows a few shades darker as she spreads her thighs for him. Those two fingers ease their way inside of her very gently, bit by bit, Bucky keeping his eyes on her face.

"Let me know if it's alright." He breathes out, moving over her once again to kiss her as his fingers ease slowly in and out of her. The omega gives a little whimpering moan as she feels his hardness against her hip and the steady motion of his digits, her lips parting in something of a groan.

"S'good, Buck, don't-- don't worry, I'll tell you--" She gasps it out with considerable difficulty. Speaking when feeling such sensations is very nearly impossible to her, and he opts to respond with a series of kisses to her throat as a third finger joins the two inside of her. Bucky's other hand is beside her, keeping himself up so he doesn't have to lay on top of while he moves.

Arousal is hot in the pit of her stomach as he pulls his fingers out from her slowly, making eye contact with her as he lifts them to his mouth and takes the smallest of tastes. The alpha grins at her now, a feral look coming into his eyes and overshadowing what she'd seen there the past few days with love and devotion and the clearest sense of dominance.

"And," He muses, leisurely, as he sits back between her legs. "You still taste just as sweet."

Stella feels her cheeks burning anew, and her only response is to adjust her position, spread her legs a bit more, and present herself to him.

Bucky wastes no time in moving forward, guiding his cock to her entrance and easing himself in with a series of gentle but firm thrusts. He is fully seated inside of her without any particular issues, and his hands return to their positions of exploring every inch of flesh he can get to even as he begins to rock in and out of the omega beneath him. He already has her claimed, so the urgency isn't there behind it. He moves almost lazily, slow and steady in his motions, and Stella moans and squirms underneath him at the steady pleasure that flows from where their bodies meet.

"You're still you." He says, finally, pressing his face into her chest and breathing his words out into the soft skin of her breasts. "You're still my Stella."

"Y-Yes--" She moans out, tilting her head back to reveal her throat to him, though he makes no motion to bite or even to mark. "Still-- Still yours, Buck, always, promise--"

He gives a breathy laugh and leans up to kiss her hard. They speak no more, his mouth covering hers as he rocks steadily in and out of her, bringing them both slowly up to the beak of their pleasure. His knot swells inside of her all the way this time as he forces himself into her as deeply as he can, locking them together and wrapping his arms around her to hold her tightly, his forehead against hers. Her eyes are closed, but Bucky doesn't mind it, tilting his head to kiss her cheeks bit by bit.

For how long they stay together, neither of them particularly knows. Stella only knows that by the time his knot goes down, he has dozed off in the warmth and calmness of the threadbare room, and she doesn't want to move away from underneath him. He is still buried inside of her when she dozes off with him, her hands finding one of his to lace their fingers together and hold on tight.

\------

The bar is loud and noisy, a stark contrast to the calmness of this morning. Her conversation with Dougan and Jones and Morita seemed to have gone relatively well, though she was positive she'd never manage to pay this bar's tab back with the amount of beer they'd opted to down. They sing loudly as she walks into the quieter room, the piano continuing it's merry tune as she meets Bucky at the bar, taking the stool beside him and watching him take another sip of the alcohol in his glass. She doesn't know what kind it is, but he doesn't look particularly drunk, so she gives it no thought.

"Told you they were all idiots." He says a bit passively, and Stella gives him a bit of a grin. The music continues for a second, and she musters the strength to ask him the question she'd tiptoed around in this early morning.

"What about you?" She questions, as casually as she can. Bucky takes another sip from the glass. "Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell no." The alpha answers, looking at her quite pointedly. "That little gal from Brooklyn, too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm followin' her." He raises his glass then in a mock toast, and Stella's grin turns into a downright adoring smile as she leans forward to place a proper kiss on his cheek. The alcohol from his breath is there for a moment and gone the next, and she gives it no thought.

"You're keeping the outfit though, right?" He says, gesturing to the poster behind them. The omega glances over her shoulder to see the picture of her in the skirt and mask, with a white paper stamped with the words TOUR CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE covering half of it.

"Y'know," She starts, "the color's kinda grown on me."

Bucky gives a laugh, and it's then that they realize the music and boisterous singing has suddenly stopped. The alpha and omega lean over to peek into the next room to see the beta Peggy Carter striding steadily towards them, dressed in a red dress and looking downright beautiful even in the dirty environment that surrounds them. Stella stands up to greet her quickly, shaking her hand as Bucky turns in his stool.

"You'll be wanted at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow morning, Captain." Peggy says steadily, giving the omega a careful smile. "You and your team are to attend a meeting, and then you will need to speak to Howard about supplies."

"We'll be there." Stella answers. Peggy gives a pointed look towards the group at the table who have begun their singing again, as has the piano music started up once more. The omega gives the beta something of a grin. "You don't like music?"

"I do, actually." The beta responds. "When this is all over, I might even go dancing."

"Well, Miss Carter, we might just have to go together sometime." Her tone is lighthearted, a bit teasing, and Stella's grin grows. Behind her, an annoyed look crosses over Bucky's face, but neither the beta or omega notice it. Peggy merely smiles.

"Oh-eight-hundred, Captain." She says, giving the other woman a polite nod before she turns on her heel. Stella watches her as she goes, feeling Bucky's hand very steadily ease forward to hold tight to her own, his strong fingers curling around hers a bit more firmly than she's felt any time before.


End file.
